


The Thousand Lumber Bet

by VivatMusa



Category: Harvest Moon: Animal Parade
Genre: Competition, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Humor, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-02 19:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 52,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4071037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivatMusa/pseuds/VivatMusa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The carpentry on Castanet Island is in deep trouble. It may even have to close down if things don't change soon. When a contest is held to see who can chop down 1,000 pieces of lumber in ten days, Luke is confident that it will be a piece of cake. However, he doesn't know that the new farm girl, Molly, is competing too. Now will he be able to save his home? Who shall win?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> "The Thousand Lumber Bet"
> 
> A Tale of Harvest Moon: Animal Parade
> 
> By, Vivat Musa
> 
> Disclaimer: No, I do not own any of the rights to Harvest Moon—just this story.

It was the last day of spring. The weather had not become very hot yet, but each day the temperature was slowly rising. For a carpenter who is always out chopping trees, that is not a good thing. With hotter weather, Luke always found himself tiring out more quickly when he was working, and that's something he cannot afford. Especially now.

The sky was mostly clear, with only a few puffy clouds floating by. From the Horn Ranch nearby, the scent of fresh fodder and the smell of barn animals were light in the air. There was also a nice breeze that came from the windmill near the ranch, as well. The whole town had gathered around at Flute Fields.

The day before, each villager was visited by the pudgy, and somewhat clueless, Mayor Hamilton. Each person was informed that there would be a special event held at Flute Fields the next day, and they were all welcomed to attend. The large, wooden platform at the top of the hill ensured that the event would take place. However, nobody knew what the event actually was…

So now everyone was gathered around the stand, talking to one another. Luke was standing next to his best-friend, Owen. To the right of him, he could hear the sounds of Paolo, Chloe, and Taylor as they played one of their games. It appeared to involve seeing who could be the first to run and kick an apple on the ground. To the left of the carpenter, were Hanna and Barbara chatting to one another. Up ahead, Calvin and Phoebe were discussing the properties of minerals—not that Luke was really paying attention to that. Who would want to know about some old rocks when you have trees and axes instead? The rest of the villagers were wandering about nearby.

Owen had his arms crossed over his chest when he asked Luke, "So what do you think this whole event will be about? No festivals are coming up until next week."

Luke smiled cheerfully. "Maybe the mayor is finally realizing how important carpenters are, and is going to announce today to be Carpenter Appreciation Day. Then we can all eat lots of chocolate bananas."

His best-friend rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like that's going to happen."

"Hey, it might." Luke shrugged.

"And you might get a date with Molly, but I wouldn't bet on that either." Owen gestured to the new girl who had recently moved to Castanet last season. The brunette had taken over the old farm outside of Harmonica town, but Luke hasn't seen her very much since then. They lived on different parts of the island, so their paths rarely crossed.

She was currently talking to Renee and Kathy, and the three of them were laughing as they chatted. Luke had to admit; the girl was rather cute when she laughed; her little nose crinkled when she smiled. The carpenter pursed his lips and a loud whistle rang out, capturing the girls' attention. When the three girls turned to look at the carpenter Luke wiggled his fingers and winked at Molly. No girl could resist The Wink. Renee and Kathy giggled, while Molly looked annoyed and rolled her eyes.

"She digs me," Luke said confidently.

"Uh huh, sure she does." Owen shot Kathy his own wink, and she returned it with an air kiss. In just a moment, the three girls returned to their conversation.

"So how is everything at the carpentry?" Owen asked, with a concerned look on his face. "I've heard that things have been slow lately."

"It's been good," Luke said, putting on a fake smile. "Pop's been having me go to Fugue Forest even more often to get lumber for projects. Bo has been tired out trying to complete everything."

"That's great, Luke. It's good to hear that things are picking up again," Owen said enthusiastically.

"Yup," he said, letting the conversation fade.

In reality, all hasn't been fine. It's true that he has been going to the forest more often to chop wood, but not because Dale (aka: Pops) had ordered him to. Actually, Dale hasn't been ordering Luke to do much at all lately. No one has been requesting any furniture or projects, so there has been no need to get lumber. Instead, Luke has been going to the forest more often; not for the lumber itself, but instead to rid himself of his anxieties. At the thought of the carpentry, Luke couldn't help but be reminded of the morning of just three days ago…

Luke and Bo were just coming down for breakfast. The usual smell of pancakes, eggs, and bacon wasn't in the air, but the two of them didn't notice. When they went to the dining room, the two of them stopped in surprise. As was routine, Dale would wake up early in order to have breakfast already prepared on the table for the two boys—but not that day. Not a single plate of food was placed on the table. Dale, himself, had his hands grasping the sides of the kitchen counter, with his back turned to Luke and Bo. Even Chief, the house dog, looked sullen and was lying low on the floor with his head down.

"G'morning, Pops!" Luke said nonchalantly, as he tied his renowned fiery bandana around his blue hair.

When he received no reply, Bo asked hesitantly, "Dale, sir? Is something wrong?"

"Sit down, boys," the man said in a gruff voice, still not turning to them.

Tentatively, the boys sat down on the wood table; the chairs making a loud scraping sound that seemed to echo in the otherwise tense silence.

"Pops?" Luke said, a little uncertainly. "Sooo, what's happening for breakfast?"

Dale turned his head just a fraction to snap, "Luke, can you just for once focus on something other than your stomach?"

Luke looked down at his gloved hands resting on his lap.

A tired sigh was heard in the room as Dale's shoulders slumped with it. "Sorry, son," he said, turning to face the boys. It was hard to see under his bushy eyebrows, but Dale's eyes looked slightly more watery than usual. "I…have some bad news for all of you." He paused for a second as Luke and Bo looked at each other in confusion. "As you two already know, the business has been slow lately. Too slow, in fact. I've been trying to make do as much as I could, but we just have to face it."

"Face what?" Bo said in a nervous tone. Now both of the apprentices were getting anxious.

Dale swallowed and straightened his shoulders before he continued. On his chin there was more gruff stubble than usual. "We might have to close the carpentry if things don't change soon."

There were gasps and a loud bang when Luke slammed his fist on the table; the sound perking up the head of Chief. "Pops, that can't happen! If we close this place, we'll have nowhere to go!"

"I'm sorry, you two, but we're running out of time and options."

Bo said quietly, "Isn't there anything we can do?"

"Just do the best we can, I suppose. Not much else we can do. I've been trying to get more orders in—even tried talking to that new farm girl, but she's not doing too well either." Dale shook his head sadly. "People just aren't buying during this time."

"Well, Bo and I can try talking around town and see if anyone is interested. You know, try to advertise our goods and stuff," Luke suggested hopefully. "And Bo's been making those little weird statue thingies, so maybe we can try and sell those also."

"They're called carvings," his fellow apprentice corrected.

"Whatever. And we'll even work with no pay if we have too. We can't lose this place, Pops."

Bo nodded eagerly in agreement.

A faint smile showed on Dale's face. "Thanks, boys. I'm not sure what will happen, but we're just going to need to figure it out."

As if a flip was switched, Dale clapped his hands and went instantly into "boss mode", as Luke liked to call it. His face became stern once more as he gave each of the boys orders of what to do that day: chop lumber, sand wood, advertise the goods, etc. A hasty breakfast was eaten and then Luke and Bo were off to work.

Neither of the boys mentioned how few orders Dale had given them…

…Luke was shaken from his flashback when Owen nudged him on his arm. "Look," his best-friend said, pointing to the platform. "It's starting."

Standing on the platform was the jovial mayor of Castanet, dressed in his usual periwinkle suit with a curled hairdo. Standing next to him was his haughty son, Gill. Luke couldn't help but feel amazed that those two were even related to one another: where Hamilton could never dislike anyone; Gill avoided everyone and believed he was the brooding superior of all.

"Welcome, everyone!" Hamilton said cheerfully, gathering the crowd's attention. "Today we have some very important news to discuss."

"Carpenter Appreciation Day," Luke whispered.

"Don't count on it," Owen said in his ear.

"We will be having a new resident coming to Castanet Island!" Hamilton continued. Owen chuckled while Luke looked thoroughly disappointed.

"Told you," Owen said.

Luke replied, "Just wait until next year."

From up on the stand, Gill glared menacingly at the two boys. "Will you two idiots shut it already?" A second later, an apple appeared out of nowhere and hit him square between the eyes with a loud plat! "Who threw that?" the platinum blonde hissed.

"Oops." A sheepish Chloe stood a few feet away with her hands behind her back. Taylor was chuckling impishly behind her, while Paolo looked shyly away.

"That's my girl," Owen whispered as Chloe ran off giggling. She wasn't the only one amused—the majority of the villagers were trying to hold in their laughter right along with her.

Gill looked like he would blow a vein as Hamilton reassuringly patted his son on the back. After a few hushed words between the two, Gill stomped back down the stage and out of sight.

"Remind me to give that girl some chocolate next time I see her," Luke said.

Hamilton cleared his throat, capturing the people's attention once more. "As I was saying, a new villager will be moving to Castanet. The newcomer said that she was moving here for her health, and that she has requested a mansion to be built in town."

A few murmurs in the crowd went around at this news. Everybody was thinking the same thing: Some rich girl was moving to Castanet? That would be interesting since the island was rather isolated and undeveloped. A few bets from the more uncouth villagers (namely Owen and Luke) were taken to see how long the newcomer would last.

Hamilton waited patiently until the crowd was quiet once again. "As you might've guessed, the resources to make a mansion will be quite substantial. It will take one thousand pieces of lumber, to be exact."

Luke whistled appreciatively. He knew that would be one heck of a job, but hey; it would be no sweat for an experienced lumberjack like him. Luke was just waiting for Hamilton to declare the job to him, but the mayor's next words gave him a shock.

"Usually this job would go to the carpenters," he gestured to Dale, who was watching stoically nearby, "but I have decided we should liven things up this summer."

"What?" Luke's eyes widened, but Hamilton paid him no notice.

"This summer we shall have a contest to see who can collect a thousand pieces of lumber first. The excess lumber shall be used to upgrade the rest of the town. Each volunteer will have until the tenth of summer to finish. We will have another event at night on that day to declare who is the winner. The victor will receive 100,000G for an award."

Luke's head instantly perked up at that. He may not be very good at mathematics, but he knew that 100,000G would be more than enough to save the carpentry. Maybe they could even get a few more tools with the excess money. Oh, and some axe polisher too. And maybe a few trips to Toucan Island…

Luke was deep in his fantasy, and he almost didn't hear it when Hamilton said, "So! Who will volunteer to be a contestant?"

Once the carpenter dropped out of his daydream, his hand shot straight up in the air. Luke was practically jumping up and down as he flailed his hand. "Oh, oh pick me! Me, me, me!"

"Okay, Luke, you're one of the contestants!" The mayor smiled as the carpenter fist-punched the air excitedly.

"Big surprise there," muttered Chase from where he leaned on the fence.

"Would anyone else care to volunteer?" Hamilton called out. When no one raised their hands he asked again uncertainly. "Anyone?"

"Yeah, who wants to go up against the BIG, BAD LUKE!" Luke said enthusiastically.

"I will," a calm voice said.

Luke looked in surprise at a small hand that was raised in the air. He looked down to see the owner of the hand: Molly.

"Ooh, challenged by a girl." Owen said coyly.

The carpenter just stared blankly as Hamilton said, "Oh, Molly! It's so good that a newcomer is participating so quickly."

The girl just nodded politely as Renee and Kathy stared at her in puzzlement—as well as the rest of the town. The girl may be tough for working on the farm, but it was no question that everyone believed she couldn't do it. Luke shook his head; she's cute, but she's just too skinny to do what a professional, like himself, could do. Even this amount of lumber would be a challenge for an experienced carpenter. Still, the girl didn't back down under everyone's doubtful stares, but held her head firmly high.

"Bet you 50G that she backs out after day two," Luke said.

Owen shrugged his brawny shoulders. "Eh, she may be tougher than she looks. I'll give her until day five."

Luke couldn't help but snort and shake his head. "And you say my ideas are outrageous."

Hamilton said, "Well if no one else is joining," he paused for a second but no one spoke up, "then that concludes today's event! Luke and Molly will be competing in the Thousand Lumber Bet. The contest shall begin tomorrow. Good luck to the both of you!"

Once the crowd dispersed and the wooden stand was taken down, Luke found himself wandering near the gate of the forest. He could already smell the woodsy pine even outside of the gate. Owen had already left to flirt with Kathy, so it was just him alone. That is, until he was met by his father.

Luke smiled cheerfully as his father walked over. "Hey, Pops! So how did you like the event? Sounds like a pretty good deal, eh? Sure it might be some tough work, but I could use a challenge! Am I right or am I right?"

Dale clapped his hand over his son's shoulder. In a stern voice he said, "Luke, I know that Molly is a nice young lass, but you need to win that contest. Do you understand?"

His son's grin faltered slightly. "Of course I understand. Like I said, it'd be no sweat!"

Dale grunted. "Don't fail me, my boy." With that he walked away.

The blue-haired carpenter nodded to himself, his father already gone. "I won't, Pops." His voice grimly echoed around the trees as he was left by himself. With a sigh, he went into the forest to blow off some steam.

There he made a decision. He refused to let that farm girl win—no one will beat Luke.

Pieces of Lumber Left: 1,000

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> I have decided to make a little mini-game out of the "Pieces of Lumber Left: Number" I have invented a little pattern with each set of numbers at the end of the chapters, and it is up to YOU to try and figure it out. Just so you know, this is just a silly mini-game and it does not alter the story in the slightest. At the very end of this story, I will include a mini-chapter that will reveal the answer to the puzzle that I have set for you. Until then, I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> IMPORTANT MESSAGE!!!!!
> 
> This story was originally published on my fanfiction.net profile, and had several contributions from reviewers at my request. The contributors (with the names they had at the time of their reviews) are listed below with their corresponding chapter in which they participated in.
> 
> Chapter Seven: H20mel0ns101
> 
> Chapter Thirteen: Le Redhead Merchant
> 
> Chapter Fourteen: Rosy the Spazz
> 
> My apologies if I've forgotten anybody! If I have missed your name, just send me a message and I'll be sure to add you!


	2. Day One

Day One

The saying goes "The early bird gets the worm", but to Luke it went "The early carpenter gets the lumber". That is why the bandana-wearing boy always gets up at precisely six o'clock, much to his fellow apprentice's dislike. That and the sooner he gets up the sooner he gets to eat.

"Bo," Luke whispered in his roommate's ear, shaking him gently. "Bo, it's time to get up."

The little boy just muttered an incomprehensible protest and burrowed his head further into his pillow, as if he hoped to escape from his persistent colleague. He was tightly swaddled in his blankets as if he was in a cocoon. The twelve year-old still possessed a babyish face, especially when he was asleep, and Luke almost felt guilty for waking him up. Almost.

"Bo." Luke poked the motionless lump. "Bo." Poke.

"Bo." Poke.

"Bo! Bo! Bo!" Poke! Poke! Poke!

The carpenter's attempt was in vain; his roommate was resilient to Luke's prodding after being around him for so long. Luke pulled back from the boy in the cocoon and considered his options. A loud grumble echoed in the room and he clenched his stomach. Whatever Luke was going to do he would need to do it fast, or otherwise starve to death. Poking was no use and nor was shaking him. He could always yell at the boy, but the last few times he did that Bo just covered his head with the pillow. Let's see…what else is there?

Finally, he sighed. "You're going to make me do it the hard way, huh?" Another unintelligible mutter came from the cocooned lump. "Have it your way then."

Luke trudged off to the bathroom while holding a bundle of his shirt over his nose—living in a house with three guys and only one bathroom did not lead to good sanitary habits. But then again, you could also gather some very resourceful things as well…

In a moment, Luke emerged from the bathroom. In his hands he hefted a large, heavy bucket that was swishing with liquids. Careful to not spill any on himself, he poured the liquids on top of the twelve year-old with a loud splash.

"W-what?! Bo immediately jumped up, completely soaked head to toe. He blinked rapidly as he took in Luke standing by his bedside with an empty bucket in his hand. "You poured water on me just because I wanted to sleep past six for once?"

"You wish it was water."

The boy tentatively sniffed his dripping sleeve and then abruptly pulled back; a grimace pulling down his face. "What is this then? Where did you get it?"

Luke decided to answer only the latter question. "From the bathroom."

Bo stood there gaping while his left eye started twitching neurotically.

"By the way, you probably want a shower as soon as possible," Luke said as he went to breakfast, leaving his roommate still drenched in the bed.

Ten minutes later, Bo sulkily sat down in a chair where Luke and Dale were sitting at the table. The two of them were eating the food of lumberjacks and carpenters: Pancakes. Luke was helping himself to a third serving of breakfast, while Dale was on his fifth. On the table in front of Bo was his own stack of pancakes. There was only a light amount of syrup decorating the top of the stack—just the way he liked it.

"What took you so long, Bo?" Dale asked, while he shoved another whole pancake into his mouth. There were some crumbs littered in his bushy mustache but he took no notice of them.

"I had to take a shower," Bo mumbled glumly, as he began to cut his pancake stack into orderly pieces. Where Luke and Dale decided that cutting up food was a waste of time, Bo liked to eat his pancakes in neat little bites. "Luke poured something on me and I had to rinse it off."

"Hah waff beffng sluog…augf Eh waff huffgie!" Luke protested around a mouth full of pancakes. What he was really trying to say was, "He was being slow…and I was hungry!"

Used to Luke speaking with a full mouth, Dale said sternly, "Luke, that's no way to wake someone up!"

"That's what I said!" Bo smiled.

"You have to spit in their ears instead. Now pass the syrup."

Luke laughed at his father's comment, as he spewed pieces of food across the table. Bo just shook his head and gave Dale his syrup. Like father like son (though Bo would never say that in front of Luke).

A little while later, once breakfast was eaten (five serving for Luke, eight for Dale, and two for Bo), Dale rinsed off his plate at the overflowing sink and went into "boss mode".

"Luke, until this contest is over you can forget about minding the store and building for now. Bo and I can look after that stuff for now," Dale said. "Your primary focus is to chop as much lumber as you can each day. You are not to let that girl win, understood?"

"Yes, cap'n." Luke raised his hand to his forehead in a jolly salute.

"Good. You leave right after breakfast."

"Dale?" Bo asked from where he sat.

"What is it, kid?"

"Won't cutting down so many trees make the Witch Princess mad?" he said cautiously. "I mean, usually we limit the number of trees that we cut so everything stays in balance, and so the witch won't hex us."

Bo was referring to the intimidating witch who lived by herself in the Fugue Forest. Whenever someone cuts down to many trees, the witch would put a nasty spell on the person. She claims that too much tree cutting upsets her wild animal friends. She was the main reason Bo never goes too deep into the forest; that woman gives him nightmares.

Bo continued, "One thousand pieces of lumber seems like an awfully large amount to cut down all at once."

Dale shook his head. "Mayor Hamilton has reassured us that it will be no problem. He traded in a favor that she owed him, so she will generate more trees to compensate for the lumber we need to gather."

Luke raised his head, a smirk spreading on his face. "When you say that she owes the mayor a favor, do you mean the time when she turned all of the fish into frogs for a season?"

"Toby, Ozzie, and Paolo were all really upset at that," Bo said, remembering.

The man just shrugged. "Probably, but there are too many favors the witch has owed the town to keep track of."

"Like the time she turned everybody's hair white," Luke offered.

Bo added, "Or the time she tried to prank the Wizard by giving his crystal ball to Jake, making him able to read everyone's minds."

"Or the time where she and the Wizard were fighting over some sort of mushroom and she accidentally hit Hamilton on the head with it."

"Or the time where—"

"Enough!" Dale yelled, his head becoming sore from the back and forth conversation. Even Chief seemed tired from repeatedly turning his head to watch the conversation. "Don't you two have work to do?"

With that, the two boys fled the table; one heading to the Fugue Forest and the other to manage the store.

The Fugue Forest was Luke's favorite place to go. Many other people found the forest eerie because of its isolation, but to Luke it was the perfect place to think. There were no sounds of people or of civilization; just the birds chirping, his heavy breathing in his ears, and the swishing and thump of his axe when it swings. For someone as energetic as Luke, he enjoyed the solitariness in the forest. Not that he was ever truly by himself—every once in a while, Luke would whistle a little tune and the birds would chirp as they followed along.

The sun was hot on his back as beads of sweat trailed down his forehead. With each swing the axe would make a loud thump against the wood it was cutting, and the leaves would quiver along with it. The scent of the different trees floated in the air; pine, oak, and maple. Luke had only been out working for about a few hours, and already there was a good-sized pile of lumber off to the side. Near it was a large cart that he used after each day to carry all of the lumber back to the carpentry.

In between the natural sounds of the forest and the swings of the axe, there was suddenly another sound. It was a soft padded noise and it seemed to be getting nearer. Luke lowered his axe to his side and turned around. Behind him was Molly, an axe swung over her shoulder, with a determined look on her face.

"What's up, Molls?" Luke asked, using the nickname he had come up with at that moment. Her amber eyes glazed over him for just a second before she silently walked past him and delved deeper into the forest. In a minute, her figure was out of sight. A frown tugged down Luke's mouth. What was her problem? Luke shrugged and went back to chopping. She was probably just too embarrassed to fully take in his awesomeness yet.

"Did I just see Molly?" A voice said behind him. Luke turned around once more to see Owen come up to him. In his hand he held a brown paper bag. "Brought us lunch." He grinned.

Luke hooked his axe onto his belt and eagerly snatched the bag out of his friend's hand. "GIMME!" He opened it up and held up two boiled eggs and a pair of sandwiches. "Thanks man, you're the best!"

"I know," Owen said simply as Luke sat down and leaned against a tree. The carpenter started to eat his sandwich greedily, as Owen joined the carpenter and took his share of food. "So," the red-head said, "I shall repeat: did I just see Molly?"

"Yup. She had just passed by right before you came. She didn't seem all that interested in talking though."

"Well, not everyone has the tolerance to keep up with your never ending enthusiasm."

Luke childishly stuck out his tongue. "Hey! I take pride in what I do. It's hard work to be so peppy all the time. Makes you hungry." Proving his point, he took another large bite out of his sandwich.

Owen shook his head and teased. "Your stomach is like a bottomless pit."

"Pops said I was born with three stomachs, and I believe him," he said around his full mouth. "But seriously, how could she not want to be around all of this?" Luke gestured to himself in a teasing manner.

"Well, you are her competition, you know. She probably doesn't want to converse with the enemy." He put air quotations when he said the last two words for emphasis.

Luke blinked at that. "The enemy?"

"Hey, that's just how she probably views it. Girls get competitive over stuff."

"And guys don't?"

"Nah, they just manly fight for their rightful territory."

The two of them laughed for a moment as the leaves rustled above their heads. Then Luke said in a troubled tone, "I know that Molly and I are competing against one another, but that doesn't mean we can't talk. Right..? "

Owen just shrugged in response. Luke mulled over this new regulation, and there was a thoughtful silence as they ate. The thought bugged him for some reason. He knew that he couldn't let the girl win, but that didn't mean that they couldn't be civil to one another, right?

For the moment, he pushed the matter aside and was the first to break the silence, as usual. "Won't Ramsey be mad at you for not being in the mines?"

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"Good point."

Once their lunch was finished, Owen swiftly dusted off his hands and stood up. "Well that was a nice break. I should probably head back out before Ramsey finds me missing—Chloe can cover for me for only so long. Will you be out here a while?"

"Probably." Luke shrugged as he got up, as well. He looked up at the sun that was still high in the sky. "I should try and stay out here as long as I can to get the most stuff done. Don't want that girl beating me—which she won't."

His friend raised an eyebrow. "You seem awfully sure of yourself."

"And how is that different from usual?"

"Oh, it isn't." Owen shook his head. Luke was a good guy, but sometimes he could be just a bit big-headed. "Just be careful, okay? I know you should be taking this seriously, but you shouldn't overwork yourself. I don't want to come up here to find your sweaty butt passed out."

Luke cheerfully winked. "No worries. This butt can take EXTREME work outs."

"Uh huh. See you later, Luke."

"Later, alligator!" He watched Owen pack up their leftover trash and make his way out of the forest. Luke took out his axe once again and got back to work.

Several hours passed as the sun sank lower into the sky. Every once in a while he would sneak a peek to the direction where Molly had gone. He couldn't hear any sounds out of the ordinary, so he figured she must have gone quite deep into the forest. Thoughts passed as time went on, and he wondered if she was okay. Then he would shake his head as if to rid himself of the idea. She could take care of herself!

Finally, the light was dimming so it was becoming difficult to see. The sounds of chirping birds were replaced with the twittering insects. The air had become crispy and cool, yet a familiar burn settled in Luke's muscle and on his skin. He tied his axe to his belt and redid his bandanna around his now sweaty hair. His damp shirt hung close to his skin.

Off to the side, he took stock of the large pile of lumber. Evaluating today's work, Luke decided it was a pretty good hull; Pops would be satisfied. He gathered up the pieces of lumber and stacked them into his cart. In about ten minutes later, the wood was towering high in the cart. He grabbed the handle of the cart and was about to head home when something stopped him. Luke looked back to the forest as his brow furrowed in worry. It was getting rather late and there was still no sign of Molly.

Luke stood there for a moment, debating what to do. Finally he closed his eyes and sighed in exasperation. He let the handle of the cart fall to the ground as he took off into the deeper words. If he didn't make sure she was alright, his conscience would tear him up.

Fortunately, he didn't have to walk for long. In only a few minutes, he could hear the familiar sounds of an axe swishing in the air and the grunts of a hard-at-work person. He peered around for a moment and then up above he caught sight of an orange shirt. Not knowing why, he automatically slowed his pace and crept behind a tree. He noticed in surprise that close by there was a decent-sized pile of lumber.

He watched unseen as Molly chopped a large pine tree. Even from afar he could see tiredness in her limbs, yet she continued on. He had to admire her perseverance, but his trained eye easily found her mistakes. He had to stifle his laughter as he noticed the farm girl's posture—her feet were too far apart and she swung her axe completely wrong. Though she had chopped an impressive amount for an amateur, she still had a lot to learn. Shaking his head, he started to walk back the way he had come. Now that his conscience was satisfied, he went back to his full cart and made his way home.

Pieces of Lumber Left: 910

Total Number of Pancakes that the Inhabitants at the Carpentry Eat Per Year: Too many to count.


	3. Day Two (Morning)

Day Two (Day)

After he woke up Bo by using Dale's useful suggestion (Bo was in the bathroom for half an hour as he tried to wash his ears) and after finishing breakfast, Luke was on his way to Fugue Forest. The air was cool and dew sparkled on the grass and leaves. No one was out yet since it was still early in the morning, so everything was reasonably quiet. This gave Luke some needed time to think. As he walked, swinging his axe by his side, a sudden idea struck him. Chuckling to himself, he quickened his pace and raced his way to the forest.

Once through the forest gate, he quickly hid behind a tree near the entrance. There he kept still for what seemed like ages (which was really only five minutes). He was relieved when he heard the sound of the gate creak upon and quiet footsteps nearby. Cautiously, he peeked around the tree and caught a glimpse of an orange shirt and brown hair. The sound of footsteps started to pad away when Luke ducked out of his hiding spot. He was getting pretty good at this spying stuff. Not that he was a stalker or anything…

He kept his distance as he followed the girl. If you were to ask Luke why he was following her, he would just shrug and respond that he was curious. If Molly had caught on to his presence she didn't show any signs of it. Her worn axe was strapped to her belt as she determinedly walked ahead. Despite what others may believe, Luke could be quiet if he wanted to be. That and the fact that he's gone to the forest every single day for years didn't hurt his chances. To prove his point, Molly stepped in a mud puddle that appeared every summer while Luke automatically walked to the side of it.

Without looking back, Molly kept on walking further than she did the day before. The trees seemed to be of a darker shade the further they went, and the light seemed to be swallowed up by the cover of the leaves. Luke peered around the forest anxiously. He knew that they were getting deep into the woods and he wondered when Molly was going to stop. If she got lost in the thick trees then it would take a while for her to find the way out. A distant buzzing made him hesitate while Molly obliviously continued on.

Before he could do anything about it Molly suddenly swung around to face him. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but she looked pleased when she saw him jump in surprise. "You're a very loud breather," she said matter-of-factly. "How long have you been following me?" Her arms were crossed over her chest, and the pleased look had turned into an expression of indignation.

Okay…so maybe he wasn't as quiet as he thought. Trying to maintain his cool, Luke casually leaned on his axe. "For a bit," he replied.

She narrowed her eyes. "Well, sorry to inform you, but I don't like it when people follow me. I would appreciate it if you stopped." With that, she turned around and started to walk away.

"I wouldn't go that way if I were you," he said in a suddenly smug tone.

Molly turned around slowly, her amber eyes holding suspicion. "Why not?"

"Hear that buzzing?"

There was a moment of silence as Molly listened intently; her head tilted to the side in an endearing way. Without waiting for an answer he pointed two fingers ahead. "About five feet away is a bee's hive. Fifteen more feet and there's a mama-bear's den." A satisfied smile appeared on his face as her eyes grew wide. "So now will you turn around?"

She didn't say anything as she turned and stiffly walked past the chuckling carpenter. Her gaze didn't look back when Luke calmly sauntered after her. Though she was walking at a rapid pace, Luke was much taller and matched her steps easily.

While keeping her eyes straight ahead she said, "How did you know that?"

"Try being in the forest every single day since you could walk. You get the hang of things pretty quickly."

They walked in silence for a moment, Molly just barely ahead of Luke, when he decided that the lack of conversation was boring. "Sooo, why are you competing in the contest?"

He didn't notice that her shoulders had tensed up. "I don't think that's really any of your business," Molly said sharply. Her pace started to quicken even faster as she hurried through the forest.

"Hey, wait up!" Luke called, but Molly didn't slow. He shook his head slightly, not knowing what had upset her. Suddenly he noticed that the ground had become softer. His boots sunk slightly in the soil with every step. It only took him a second to recognize the current area. He looked up in panic, his heart starting to beat frantically. "Molly! Molly, c'mon, wait for me!"

"Please just leave me alone!" The girl shouted as she stomped away.

"No, Molly wait! Stop!" Luke broke out into a run but he was too late.

A second later there was a loud crack followed by a sudden cry. Up ahead a flurry of leaves were tossed in the air. Luke hurried as fast as he could towards the noise. It felt like his heart had dropped down to his stomach. He stopped abruptly at the edge of a gaping hole in the ground. "M-Molly, where are you?" he shouted frantically.

"Down here!" Molly's voice cried from below. He felt a wave of relief rush over him, though he quickly pushed that aside and focused.

Immediately, Luke stooped to the ground on his hands and knees and tried to peer in the dark hole. He could barely make out the faint outline of the girl from within. The ground was cold against his palms, and he could smell the musty scent of the dirt. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I think so. Just really dirty."

"We can worry about the dirt later," Luke said, as he stretched his hand down the hole. A moment later he felt something small grasp his hand and he clenched it. With a grunt and several hard heaves Luke managed to pull Molly out. However, the force of the pulling threw Luke and Molly on the ground next to each other.

"Ow. That hurts," Luke grimaced, rubbing his arm.

"You're telling me," said Molly next to him. She was right when she said that she was filthy: dirt covered her clothes and speckled her face and hair. Not that Luke really cared about that right now.

"Are you okay?" Luke said frantically. "I was such an idiot! I should've remembered sooner that stupid pitfall was there! Ugh, just because I pulled a prank that was only a teensy bit dangerous the Witch Princess had to overreact and dig a freaking pitfall!"

Much to his surprise, the farm girl just rolled her eyes. "Relax, you worry-wart. Look, no scratches or anything!" She flexed her arms and legs for emphasis. Doubtful, he quickly scanned her to check for any wounds. Luckily, she was right again; there were no scratches or cuts anywhere. "See? No blood, no foul. Though, I won't argue on the idiot bit." She smiled playfully.

Luke just shook his head as he got up and offered her his hand. "I'm not saying that's true, but usually I'm the one who gets into trouble."

Once he helped her up she dusted off her clothing and said, "I think I had better luck in the forest yesterday. I have probably already wasted a lot of time here."

"Come on. I've got the perfect place where we could go to get some good lumber." There was a mischievous glint in his eyes that made Molly hesitate.

She warily shook her head. "No, that's okay. I'll be fi—"

"I'm not taking no for an answer. Without me, you'll probably run into the Witch Princess or something. Then I'll have to come in and save you with my wicked axe, and then the Witch Princess wouldn't help but fall madly in love with me because of my mad skills and awesome bravery, and then she would cast a spell on all the other girls in her jealousy, and then a huge cat-fight would break out, and then I would have to break it apart, and then I would say, 'Ladies, ladies, there's enough Luke-ness to go around!' and then—"

"You're getting ahead of yourself."

He grabbed her wrist and gave a hard tug. "Come on, already," he said impatiently. "It's the least I can do for risking your life."

"But—"

"No buts—unless you want the Witch Princess to cast a spell on you!"

She groaned and looked up to the skies in exasperation. "Fine," she finally said, "but I can walk by myself." Her gaze went pointedly to where his grip was still holding her wrist.

Luke immediately let go and raised his hands in an apologetic manner. "Fine by me!"

He then started to walk away with her reluctantly following behind him. For the most part, Luke was a pretty good guide. They didn't hit anymore trouble and he kept his pace slow enough so she could easily keep up. He even told her about the various exciting stories that he had experienced in the woods. As they walked he blew through numerous other topics while she just politely nodded. Only every once in a while would she actually give any input—not that he really minded; usually everyone else would just outright ignore him.

"And then we couldn't find Chief anywhere! It turned out that he was hiding under Bo's bed because he had eaten too much syrup. His tummy ached for days! And that's why we never give Chief any syrup on his blueberry-and-biscuit pancakes—only pure honey."

Luke ceased his chattering for a moment and stopped suddenly. "Well, here we are!" he said brightly, his arms outstretched as if to show off the area.

Molly poked her head around him, as she took in where he had brought her. Then she raised a puzzled eyebrow at Luke. "This looks exactly the same as the rest of the forest." All around there were the same types of trees at random intervals, the same sounds of the tweeting birds, and the same robust smells. The only difference was the current area didn't seem as deep in the forest as it was before.

Luke shook his head and looked at her as if she was missing something obvious. "No, it's completely different. The air is just more…air-ier here and the trees are better too."

Doubting her decision to come (though she didn't really have much choice) she stepped out into the so-called perfect place. Finally, she sighed and brought out her axe. "Well, I suppose it doesn't make much difference where I chop."

"That's the spirit!" Luke grinned, bringing out his own axe. He was about to begin chopping but then he faltered when he saw Molly, who had already begun. "No, no, no!" He walked over to where she was. "You're doing it all wrong!"

"What? How am I doing it wrong? You just hold your axe and hit something!" She angrily crossed her arms as Luke scooted her over.

"It's more than just hitting it!" he said sternly. The look he was giving her was a look that a teacher would give an ignorant student. "You need to have a proper stance, and then add a little flair…" Luke held the axe steady for a moment and then he suddenly spun in a circle. With several loud thumps the tree was hit repeatedly, making a deep gash into the wood. Coming to a controlled halt, he grinned at Molly with a satisfied look on his face—though he did resist the urge to wink. "See? More bang for the buck that way. I call it the Extreme 360."

Molly looked at him warily for a moment and Luke's bravado started to falter under her scrutinizing gaze. Fortunately, after a moment she said, "Teach me how to do that."

Luke smiled and then raised his head in an exaggerated snooty manner. "What's the magic word?"

She rolled her eyes but answered, "Please?"

"Deal." They shook each other's hands.

For the next thirty minutes, Luke instructed Molly how to correctly use her axe. He was a surprisingly good teacher; he sternly but patiently corrected her mistakes and praised her when she got it right. Soon enough, she had not only learned how to chop correctly, but how to also do a few neat tricks. Luke, of course, wouldn't reveal all of his trade secrets…

Once they had finished Your Axe and How to Use It 101, as Luke officially named it, the two of them went to different areas close by and began to chop trees solo. A few times throughout the day a light conversation would begin, but for the most part the two of them worked quietly (if that was possible for Luke). The sounds of their swishing axes kept track of the time.

Every so often, Luke would sneak a glance at Molly. The sun brought out the orange tint in her hair, and cute little beads of sweat dotted her nose. Even her eyes seemed to shine with stunning ferocity as she swung her tool. As he observed, he got distracted for a moment and swung his axe through thin air, missing the targeted tree completely. He was thankful that Molly was too busy to notice his mistake—oh, how that would've ruined his reputation if she had seen it. Later, he sneaked another glimpse and mentally took note of her improving stance. With some unease he noticed her steadily growing pile of lumber catching up to his own. From there on, he secretly steered his mind back to work and pushed himself even harder.

The sun once again began to sink its way down the sky, shedding rays of orange and pink lights. It wasn't until the sky had turned dark when Luke and Molly lowered their axes and stopped. Both of their breathing was heavy and their hair hung limply in their eyes. Overall though, Molly seemed to be the most worn out between the two. She peered at Luke for a moment and then sighed wearily.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Nothing really. It's just a bit intimidating that I'm completely exhausted, and yet you look as if you could still keep on going."

Luke chuckled at that. "I'm more tired than I look, honestly. You just kind of get used to it."

"Yeah, well, I would've thought that running a farm would have helped a bit to build up more stamina."

"Nah, you're doing pretty good for a beginner." The carpenter nervously scratched the back of his head. "Eh, you're going to hate this but…" he began.

She frowned and raised an apprehensive eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Well, Owen and I sort of took a bet to see how long you would last," he admitted. "I had bet two days and Owen had bet five…" The odd look she had didn't exactly make him want to continue.

"And how much did you bet?"

"Uh, 50G…"

She smirked. "I'm glad you lost then." Turning smoothly on her heel, Molly went and gathered up her lumber for that day, pointedly ignoring the idiot carpenter.

"Hey, I told you about that so you would know that you're doing pretty well! It was supposed to be encouragement," he protested weakly.

"Yes, that's sure to cheer me up. Especially right after you told me that you believed that I don't stand a chance," she said curtly, sarcasm dripping in her voice. "Good night, Luke."

Luke wanted to bang his head against the tree as she walked away. He would've voiced his concern of her getting lost in the woods, but he held his tongue-he didn't want her to get even more furious. "You never know when to shut your big mouth, do you Luke?" he muttered to himself. Owen would get a kick out of this. And here he thought they were getting along so well. He sighed once more as he gathered his own lumber. After he dropped off the material at his house, he decided that he needed a good cocktail and headed off to the Brass Bar. Maybe he would see Owen and give him what he owed...

Pieces of Lumber Left: 802

Pieces of Wisdom about the Opposite Gender Left: Apparently None


	4. Day Two (Night)

Try and guess where Luke was at the middle of the night. That's right—you solved it: Molly's house!

Audience gasps, "What?!"

(Author rewinds the story)

Day Two (Night)

Thump.

Catch.

Thump.

Catch.

The tiny ball soared in the air and then with a thump it was squashed against the ceiling, just to land back in the same calloused hand.

Thump.

Catch.

Thump.

Catch.

His head rested underneath his hand, fingers splayed against smooth blue hair. Luke laid flat upon his back on his unmade bed, and his yellow-amber eyes reflected in the dim light like a cat's. His gaze was on the ceiling and yet he didn't really see it at all.

Thump.

Catch.

Thump.

Catch.

Over and over again he effortlessly caught the ball with only one hand, and then threw it back in the air absentmindedly once more. The steady sound of it hitting the ceiling and falling in his hand kept time with the young man's trailing thoughts. Mixed in with that was Bo's soft snoring from across the room. The surprise wore off long ago that Bo was still asleep with the constant bouncing of the ball. That kid could sleep through most anything, which is why each day Luke had to figure out another creative method to wake him up.

Usually it took only about twenty minutes for Luke's mind to quiet down enough so he could fall asleep. Tonight, however, his mind wouldn't stop thinking as the sky outside slowly turned several shades darker. Eventually he gave up trying to fall asleep, and decided that he needed to tire himself out. He stretched his hand underneath his bed and searched blindly for a moment until he found the plastic ball (don't ask how it got there). It must've been at least midnight and he was still throwing the ball against the ceiling, not tired in the least. Instead, his thoughts kept on coming back to a few hours ago...

After dropping off the lumber, he had gone to the Brass Bar. The scent of alcohol and sweat was thick in the air—it wasn't a very pleasing smell. As expected, Owen was sitting at one of the tables and was having a drink. Leaning heavily on his table was Kathy, the bar's waitress. The two of them were flirting with one another as Luke stepped through the door. Instantly Selena, who was dancing on the stage, seductively winked and blew the carpenter an air kiss. It was the one time where Luke had the decency to blush. He kept his head lowered as he hurriedly sat down at a table, purposely picking the one that was farthest away from the dancer.

Owen looked up from the flirting blonde just for a moment to see Luke sitting by himself. He gave a friendly wave and detached himself from Kathy, much to her displeasure. In an instant, he was sitting across from Luke.

"Hey, man! What's up?" he asked, his words slightly slurred together.

Luke responded by digging around in his jean's pocket for a moment. When he took out his hand he slid 50G across the table to Owen. "Here. I thought I might as well pay up."

Owen looked stupefied at the sudden money and made no move to touch it. He raised a wary eyebrow at the carpenter when he replied, "In all the years that I have known you—which is an embarrassingly high number—you have never once paid your debts. So what happened?"

Luke sighed and brushed his hand through his thick blue mane. "I think I need a round."

All Owen had to do was raise a hand and Kathy was there with two cold coconut cocktails—a favorite for both of the young men—and a kiss on the cheek saved especially for the miner. Luke was lucky that it was only a kiss-usually it was much worse. In a moment, she was gone and Luke took a long sip out of his drink. "Spill it," Owen said insistently.

"Fine, fine." Luke immediately launched into the story of his day and Owen listened with a patient ear. Neither of them noticed that Selena was staring solely at Luke as she made some unique improvisations to her dance. Ten minutes later the carpenter was out of breath from talking (which is saying something), while Owen sipped his drink thoughtfully as he mulled over the new information.

Finally, Owen broke the silence by declaring an enlightened answer. "That's rough, bro." (A/N Sorry for the sudden intrusion, but just wanted to mention that that was a reference to Avatar: The Last Airbender, 'The Boiling Rock'.)

"Yup." Luke took another swig from his drink.

Owen pointed out, "You do know that she is still your competition, right? I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be befriending your rivals, anyways. It's like in the competitors' rulebook or something: Don't befriend your rivals—especially if they are the opposite gender."

"I know that! I just don't see what's wrong with being civil—that's all. And I can't exactly be civil when she's shooting daggers at my head—and she has an axe too! That I trained her with!" Luke thought it was important to emphasize the last part.

"Another tip when it comes to women: Don't train them with stuff. Even if it's a simple task like cooking, they'll use it against you."

"Women." The carpenter shook his head. He believed that a llama would be less complicated than the human female gender.

"Tell me about it." Owen nodded sympathetically. "So what are you going to do?"

"Absolutely no idea."

Both boys pondered the problematic situation. If they hadn't gotten help, then they probably would have stayed there the entire night trying to figure out a solution.

As all waiters and waitresses do, Kathy was listening in to the boy's conversation nearby. She decided to let the incompetent boys suffer a while for their female prejudices. However, she couldn't say no to Owen's sad face for long. That and she figured that they would sooner become prim gentlemen before they became experts on women.

"Why don't you do something nice for her?" Kathy suggested craftily, refilling their drinks. At Luke's indignant gaze she hastily added, "I mean, not that you don't already do nice things for her. Girls just like it when guys apologize, even when they did nothing wrong." Though they always do, Kathy thought.

"Hey, that's a pretty good idea!" Owen said enthusiastically, turning to Kathy. "How did you think of that?"

Kathy tried not to roll her eyes as she patiently patted her boyfriend on the head. "Oh, I have my ways."

Luke, however, still wasn't sold on the idea. "But I can't just go up to her and apologize for something I didn't do—even if she wants me too! I do have a reputation to maintain!"

This time Kathy truly did roll her eyes. Guys were so dang complicated! "Why not do something more subtle then? You don't have to do it face-to-face, you know."

The carpenter blinked. "You don't?"

"No, darling, you don't." Did she really have to spell out everything? "Try leaving something at her doorstep instead. As long as a girl knows it's you, then she doesn't care how you apologize— as long as you do it."

"Oh. That works then."

Owen smiled at his girlfriend. "You are an amazing woman."

Kathy chuckled as she pecked her boyfriend on the cheek once more. She then contentedly walked away to wait on another table.

"I know that look in your eye," Owen said, staring at Luke. "You're thinking up a plan."

"Yeah, and it's going to be the bestest plan ever…"

Owen laughed and pushed the money back to Luke. "Keep your cash. It might just give you some inspiration."

"Thanks, bro." Luke put his money back in his pocket. Then just as quickly he took it out once more. "Oh, I forgot! The drinks…"

The miner waved his hand dismissively; his eyes were slightly more unfocused than before. "Don't worry, I got it covered." He took a thick wad of cash out of his leather wallet and flapped it in the air smugly. "Luke, meet Mr. Diamond from the mines. Mr. Diamond, meet idiot boy from the carpentry."

"Thanks, man! I owe you one." Luke got up from his seat and started to exit the bar, keeping his eyes strictly away from the seductive dancer.

"You owe me several!" Owen called back in a sluggish voice.

After he left, Luke went straight home to think of what he should do. That was about ten o'clock at night. Now, he was still wondering what to do at midnight. Thump. Catch. Thump.

Tap-tap-tap.

Luke sighed when his hand closed just a second too early, the ball bouncing over his already clasped fingers. The ball slid off his bed and bounced to the floor with several small taps. Reluctantly, Luke rolled of his bed and went on his hands and knees to the splintery floor. Near the ground was a plugged-in nightlight that Bo still secretly used. It casted a dim light that made it easier for Luke to see.

He fumbled for a moment and reached his hand out blindly against the cool floor. First he felt something soft in his hand. He raised the item up to find that it was a pair of underwear—and judging by the smell, it was dirty underwear. Tossing it over his shoulder, he continued his search. When he came up empty, he bent even lower and peered under his bed. Instead of finding the ball, something else caught his eye. The new item glinted but he couldn't make out what it was in the darkness. Craning his neck, he stretched his hand farther under the bed until he felt something small, thin, and cold in his grasp. Reaching back, he held up the item to the light. It was a silver coin. At some point, it must've fallen out of his pocket and rolled under his bed.

The coin's luster reflected in the light as he held it up. As if a divine intervention occurred, a sudden idea came to Luke. Why didn't I think of this before? He thought to himself, excitement running through his veins. It was so brilliant! Molly would love it for sure!

Without a second thought, he placed the coin in his jean's pocket and shrugged on his jacket. Luckily, he didn't have to worry about the noise of putting on clothes waking up Bo—he goes to bed every night already dressed for the next day. (Why waste time getting dressed in the morning?) In a moment he had opened the front door, making sure it closed quietly behind him, and stepped into the brisk night air.

As one would expect at the middle of the night, everything was quiet in the Garmon Mine District. It almost looked like a ghost town as the wind eerily blew on the shops' signs, making an occasional creaking noise. The only other sounds that could be heard were crickets chirping to one another, and the soft padding of Luke's footsteps. Knowing the area by heart, he lightly jogged through the district in the dark, and crossed the bridge out of the mountains.

In just twenty minutes he was at Molly's house. For years he had passed by the previously empty house without a second thought. He had never stopped to wonder who used to call it home, much less who would be calling it home. Now, he walked up the few little steps to the porch and gazed around the land.

The house certainly didn't look like much: the white paint was peeling, loose tiles hung on the roof, and building materials were abandoned on the ground. Unfortunately, the farmland wasn't very impressive either. The coop and barn were also worn down and in need of repair, and while the fields had a wide variety of crops, you could easily tell the quality of the soil was low-grade.

However, there was also a sense of devotion and gentle affection that hung in the air. Only a few fallen leaves were scattered on the ground and not a single weed grew in the fields. Nor were there any cobwebs inhabiting the corners of the buildings. Anyone with a careful eye could see the area was much loved. Luke could just imagine Molly outside with the sun warm on her neck as she adamantly worked in her fields, preening and caring for her plants until they were of shining quality.

A cool, whispery wind shook Luke out of his reverie. Pulling his jacket closer, he reminded himself of what he was truly there for. He dug around his in pockets for a moment and felt around for what he wanted. It took him a moment to sort through the junk (or as he called it, the necessary things), but finally he pulled out a small velvet bag. Feeling pretty good about himself, he placed the bag in front of Molly's doorstep.

Luke was about to walk off when something made him turn around once more. He took another scrutinizing look at his apology gift. Now that he thought about it…the bag by itself did seem rather lonely. It deserved a little flair—a touch of something else. Besides, if Luke was going to something, he should do it thoroughly. Digging into the dragon's cave once more (aka: his pockets), he searched for something else suitable to accompany the lonely bag. His hand pulled out…

A Toothpick? Nope.

Some fish-oil based axe polisher…always useful to keep on hand, but probably not the best to give a farmer.

A half-eaten, cotton-candy flavored lollipop—how long was that in there..?

Finally, he found something that fit the bill. Feeling something smooth and hard, he took the item out. His favorite jar of honey. Perfect. He placed the jar next to the bag and stepped back, surveying the two items with a critical eye. Declaring it officially the bestest thing ever, he nodded to himself as he began to walk away again. Of course, being Luke, he had to do just one last thing…

Scampering back up the steps, he picked up the jar of heaven and unscrewed the lid. The almost sickeningly-sweet aroma filled the air as Luke dipped a finger into the sticky goop. His eyelids fluttered as he tasted the thick honey on his lips. He savored the texture and the flavor for a moment. Then once he was fully content, he screwed the lid back on the jar and set it back next to the bag. He made his way back to his house, whistling into the night. As soon as his head hit his pillow, he was fast asleep and snoring louder than a lion.

Pieces of Odd Things Still Left in Luke's Pocket: You don't want to know.


	5. Day Three

Day Three

A ray of morning sunshine shone through the window. As if the light was seeking out the young boy, it settled perfectly on Bo's closed eyelids. Bo mumbled a protest as the sudden light disturbed his dreams. He burrowed his head further into the warmth of the soft pillows, trying to hide from the irritation. However, the damage had already been done: his peaceful slumber was woken.

A loud yawn came from his mouth, and he reluctantly peeled his crusty eyelids open. Bright sunlight filtered in the room—too bright for Bo's taste—and he could smell the familiar woodsy scent of the house. At the back of his mind he sensed that something was odd, but he was still too fogged with sleep to focus on it. The little boy rubbed his bleary eyes. When he pulled back his hand, he failed to notice that a blotch of color marked his skin.

Bo slowly rose from his warm, tangled sheets and peered around his bedroom. To his surprise, the room was oddly quiet and not another soul was in sight. Across the room was Luke's bed. Naturally, it was unmade with the wrinkled sheets and pillows strewn across the bed. Nothing stood out of the ordinary except for one thing. Where was Luke to rudely wake up Bo at precisely six o'clock? Something must be horribly wrong…

"Luke?" Bo called out tentatively. "Luke, where are you?"

That's when he noticed the clock sitting on his bedside table. The face read fifteen minutes past six. There was a sharp intake of breath as Bo processed this. He hadn't slept past six in years—much less six-fifteen. What could've happened to Bo's personal living-hell of an alarm clock?

Suddenly a morbid idea passed through the little boy's head. Maybe in the middle of the night Luke had turned into a zombie and was eating everybody's brains! (Luke needed all the brains he could get.) Of course, the idea was not at all connected to the fact that Bo had stayed up late the night before to watch "Zombieland". Not at all.

Nonetheless, Bo was still in his pajamas as he raced out of the room. He had to save Chloe from being eaten!

"Dale! Dale! Luke has turned into a zombie!" Bo burst through the dining room, the doors making a resounding bang behind him. Sitting in front of him was the everyday scene of Luke and Dale at the dining table. Each of them seemed to be nearly finished with their customary breakfast of pancakes. The only untouched meal was at Bo's spot on the table, and his stack of pancakes was quickly becoming soggy.

Luke looked up from his almost empty plate; his cheeks were fully puffed with food. "Eh ugh wat ghow?" (Translation: "I'm a what now?")

Bo blinked at his friend. So Luke wasn't a zombie after all. Bo couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed—now he couldn't rescue Chloe and become her dreamy hero…"Why didn't you wake me up?" he asked in a slightly pouty tone. "You always do."

Luke's expanded cheeks diminished as he swallowed. "I had a better idea," he said simply, shrugging his shoulders. Bo didn't like how a sudden outrageous grin appeared on his friend's face.

"Bo, what took you so long this time?" Dale asked, not looking up from his plate. "Breakfast is almost over."

"Luke didn't wake me up like he always does."

Dale opened his mouth to say something, but his words froze when he looked up at the boy. His astonished eyes lingered on Bo's face as Luke started to snigger from where he sat. Bo could feel his cheeks redden under his family's odd gaze, and he couldn't figure out what had made their expressions so incredulous.

"What? What is it? Is my hair really that bad?" Bo asked anxiously, his fingers going to his hair.

Suddenly, both the father and the son burst out laughing, much to Bo's distress.

"Kid, maybe you should ask someone else to do your makeup for you next time!" Dale said in between laughter as his hand slapped the table.

Luke sniggered. "I've heard that Selena is pretty good."

"What are you two talking about?"

There was a mischievous glint in Luke's eyes. "Take a look in the mirror, beautiful."

Bo's eyes widened as he ran to the bathroom; the laughter could still be clearly heard behind him. He couldn't believe what he saw when he peered in the dirty bathroom mirror. A hideous pink colored his cheeks, while the rest of his face was painted a dense white that resembled the color of a mime. Bright orange lipstick was smeared all over his lips, and it made his mouth feel heavy and sticky. Whenever he blinked, exaggerated eyelashes that were thick with black goop would flutter.

A shrill scream pierced the air. Over the noise came Luke's voice. "I would never forget about my bestest buddy in the morning! Never!"

Luke was still chuckling as he strolled through the Fugue Forest. What Bo didn't know was that Luke had taken a picture of his makeup masterpiece after he was finished. It was the perfect revenge after the little tyke ate the last slice of the banana pie. Now he would always have a perfect piece of blackmail…

The warmth of summer was noticeably increasing; as well as the amount of pesky mosquitoes. The carpenter swatted one of the bugs as his boots crunched the leaves on the ground. So far there was no sign of Molly throughout the forest, and Luke couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. On one hand, it was good since it meant less effort for the competition, but on the other hand…he couldn't help but wonder if Molly was still mad at him.

He forcibly pushed the thoughts aside as he stopped in his tracks. Taking in the land, Luke slowly turned around and contemplated the dense bands of trees that shaded the area. There were enough trees so he didn't have to worry about chopping down too many, and the overcast shade would help keep things cooler as well. Deciding that the place was just right, Luke took out his axe and settled on a nearby pine. He had just swung when a voice suddenly came from behind him.

"So you started the party without me, huh?"

"What the—" Luke's swing violently veered to the side, only scratching its target, and the axe would've slipped out of his grasp if he was any less of a skilled carpenter. He lowered his axe and turned around. Luke was only slightly surprised when he saw Molly smirking behind him. Did she follow him?

"Molls, don't sneak up on me like that when I'm in the middle of swinging a freaking axe! Otherwise it could've been your head that was hit!" Luke exasperatedly chastised her.

The girl raised an eyebrow. "But since you're such an expert carpenter, you wouldn't make such an amateur mistake, would you?"

Luke opened his mouth to respond but closed it again a second later—he had no comeback for that. He grumbled and lifted his axe once more, ignoring the laugh behind him. A second later there was a jingling sound that was followed immediately by a soft thump. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the familiar velvet bag.

"I'm guessing it's no coincidence that I found that bag on my doorstep this morning, and it holds exactly 50G." The tone in her voice held absolutely no doubt.

Luke just shrugged indifferently and continued to swing his axe, not even looking at the girl. "I thought you could use it."

This time Molly determinedly walked right next to the tree that Luke was chopping, forcing him to stop. When Luke lowered his axe, not wanting to risk harming the girl, Molly put her hands on her hips. "I don't need charity," she said with a small frown. "I can make my own gold."

"I wasn't talking about the gold," said Luke. "I was talking about the honey."

For the first time, Molly missed a beat. She blinked as if she wasn't expecting the sudden change in conversation, but then a tiny smile slowly turned her lips. "Okay, I give. Why did you give me honey?"

Luke returned the smile with one of his own. "Everybody needs a little honey," he replied. "You know what that song says, 'A spoonful of honey helps the medicine go down.'

Molly tried not to laugh when she replied, "It's a spoonful of sugar, doofus."

Now it was Luke's turn to be the one surprised. "Really? Goddess, I should never trust Owen."

This time Molly didn't even try to hide her laughter. She just tossed her head back as if she didn't care who would hear, as her button nose wrinkled endearingly. Luke had always hated when girls giggle—like Selena and Luna—but he couldn't help but watch Molly admiringly when she laughed. It didn't sound forced or fake like how others would, but Molly's laugh was light, bubbly, and just plain infectious. It made Luke want to join in, and even the birds perching in the trees seemed to want to chirp along with the joyous sound.

Luke felt an unexpected stab of disappointment when the laughter stopped and Molly became composed one more. However, unlike before there was still a hint of mischief in the farmer's eyes as she leaned against a tree and faced Luke. "So," she said, flicking back a strand of hair, "Why did you really give me it?"

When Luke smirked and opened his mouth to respond she hastily added, "And I mean the gold, not the honey, Mr. Poppins."

The carpenter raised an eyebrow at the nickname but didn't comment on it. Instead he leaned on his axe and gazed at her steadily. "Yesterday you had beaten my bet, so I thought it was only fair to pay up."

Molly gazed at the fallen leaves on the ground as she seemed to ponder this. Though Luke tried to remain still, his nerves were jumping all over the place and he couldn't stop his fingers from tapping on the axe handle as he waited for her to respond. Finally, she calmly walked over to the small pouch where it laid on the ground while Luke's eyes followed her movements. Bending down, she picked it up and looked at the bag as if she didn't know what to do with it. Then quick as a wink, she swung her arm back and threw it straight at Luke's head.

Anyone else would've ducked out of the way—but Luke wasn't anyone. (Clearly.) Instinctively, he hoisted the handle of the axe, and using it like a bat he hit the pouch with a thump right back; the sound of the bag cutting through air whistled in his ears. It appeared that Molly wasn't just anyone either. Just as fast, her hand shot up and caught the bag only inches away from her face.

There was a moment of dead silence as their actions caught up with their thoughts. Then each of them surprised one another by bursting out in laughter at exactly the same time. The chorus of them laughing lasted so long that it became painful for both. Molly doubled over and wrapped her arms around her waist, the pouch still clutched in hand, while Luke had to lean on his axe to stop from falling.

Finally, out of breath and guts feeling like they would explode, Molly was the first to finish. "You have some darn good reflexes, honey-boy" she said, wiping a tear from her eye. A wild grin was on her face, and Luke thought it suited her much better than her usual frown or smirk. He didn't even mind his new nickname—in fact, he liked it. Who doesn't like having a name that referred to the gift of goddesses? (A/N: Sorry if that's a bit confusing. A lot of people refer to butter as the 'gift of gods', so I thought Luke would refer to honey as the 'gift of goddesses'. Yeah…sorry if you don't happen to get the reference. I know it's a bit random…)

"What can I say? I'm the bestest guy ever." He smiled and winked. It wasn't The Wink but a cheerful wink he would give a friend. "Speaking of which, why were you trying to murder said bestest guy ever?

He couldn't believe it, but Molly actually looked sheepish when she replied, "Um…actually I was really trying to throw the bag in your hands, not at your head. That was by accident. Honestly!" A blush covered her cheeks. "I'm…uh…not really good at aiming. At all."

Luke couldn't help but smirk. "For a girl who can swing an axe with pretty decent aim, I found that surprising. Not to mention those reflexes you just showed off. Still though, you didn't tell me why you threw the gold back to me in the first place."

He thought he heard her mutter, "I thought this would turn out smoother…"

"What did you say?"

There was another blush as she tried to evade eye contact. "I said, I thought that those lessons you gave me were pretty good. For a doofus," she quickly added. "But I thought I might as well pay you—or at least give you back your gold—that is, if you were going to train me some more."

"You know, you would usually have to pay a lot more to even get a chance to train with the master," Luke replied, a glint in his eyes. "But…for you I'll make an exception." This time he gave her The Wink.

Besides rolling her eyes, Molly seemed rather unaffected by his special wink. Luke, however, didn't mind and raised his hand. Taking deliberate aim, Molly threw the bag once more to the carpenter. The throw was far off and he had to stretch his hand high to catch it, but at least this time it wasn't targeted (honestly or not) for his head. Shoving the gold in his packet, he gripped his axe once more.

"Let's get to work, my padawan!"

After a long day, the two left with a satisfied feeling. Molly learned a few more tricks of the trade (not all, mind you), and Luke got a sufficient amount of lumber chopped. Ha, I was right, Luke thought as he walked home. Competitors can be civil with one another!

Pieces of Lumber Left: 712

Reasons Why Everyone Needs Honey: Infinite


	6. Day Four (Part 1)

"It's getting late, Luke. We should probably head back. Luke? Luke…hey, are you even listening?"

The carpenter was jolted out of his deep thoughts when he was suddenly shaken. He turned around and jumped in surprise at the sudden appearance in front of him. Molly's hands were still lingering lightly on his shoulders from where she shook the carpenter. Her eyes crinkled with worry as she tilted her head back to look at him. The light of the setting sun seemed to illuminate the girl's features with a soft golden glow and it made her amber eyes seem even warmer.

"What? What's wrong?" Luke blinked, feeling oddly disoriented.

"Nothing's wrong. I was just saying that we should probably call it quits for today, but you seemed really spaced out. What were you thinking about?" Molly peered curiously at him, but then she remembered where her hands were resting and hastily placed them by her side.

Feeling slightly disappointed, Luke absentmindedly fidgeted with his bandanna. "Oh, nothing really. I was just wondering what it would be like to…eh, ride in a banana boat..." In reality, his thoughts were much darker than anything regarding fruits.

Molly raised an eyebrow and frowned, disbelief clearly written on her face. "A banana boat, huh?"

"What?" he said defensively. "Can't you just imagine getting a big enough banana and then carving it out so you could sail in it? Hmm, but then I would probably find a reason to eat it…" Luke pondered this intently, hand on his chin, while Molly couldn't decide if she should laugh, roll her eyes, or just ignore him.

She decided that the last two options were the best choice. "Come on, honey-boy. Let's get going already before it gets dark."

Shaking out of his thoughts once more, Luke blinked and was shocked to notice the quickly dimming light. Without realizing it, the two of them had been chopping lumber all day while the time unnoticeably passed by. Two large piles of lumber sat to the side, and next to one of the piles was the carpenter's wagon.

As Luke began to stack his share of the wood into the wagon, Molly shrugged off her rucksack and placed it on the ground beside her. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she took each piece of lumber one by one and placed it in her rucksack with ease. Despite it being the size of only a regular backpack, the rucksack didn't seem to bulge or expand in any way, no matter how many items the girl shoved in it. The lumber just slipped easily into the bag, where it seemed to miraculously disappear.

In just moments, Molly's pile was gone and the bag was shrugged onto her shoulders. Luke's eyes darted to his wagon that was only half-filled with lumber, and then to where Molly's rucksack was resting comfortably on her shoulders; the added weight didn't seem to affect her at all. Molly froze in the middle of readjusting the rucksack's straps when she noticed the carpenter's gaze darting back and forth.

"What is it?" she asked hesitantly.

"How did you—? What type of—?" Luke forcibly shut his mouth when Molly stared at him in bemusement, and began again. "I meant, how does your bag seem to fit everything like that? I'm no expert on physics, but I know enough to know that you shouldn't be able to shove a cartful of lumber into a rucksack that's the size of a schoolbag without it even bulging. Not to mention whatever else you stuffed in it."

There was a mischievous gleam in the girl's eyes when she responded, "Why, it's magic, of course. The Harvest Goddess enchanted it herself."

"No seriously," Luke protested, "how are you able to do that?"

"I am being serious," Molly said in a tone that clearly indicated the opposite. "The Harvest Goddess is very generous when you do a world-saving favor for her."

"Liar," Luke said petulantly. "Nobody has seen the Harvest Goddess in decades—much less done a favor for her."

The girl didn't answer but instead just smirked and leaned casually against a tree.

"Fine, don't tell me. Let's see who'll give you honey the next time you're in sweetness-withdrawal, because it definitely won't be me!" Luke pointedly ignored the girl and continued to stack the large amount of remaining lumber into his cart.

When there was finally nothing else to stack, Luke's shirt was drenched in sweat and his hair was pasted to his forehead. The light of the afternoon had faded away and a handful of fireflies flitted leisurely in the thickening dark; their wings making an almost unintelligible fluttering sound. A soft breeze was blowing but it still wasn't enough to cool Luke's heated skin.

"Come on," Molly spoke for the first time since their little argument, and she detached herself from the tree. "It's late and I'm starving. Meet me at the bar in twenty minutes, got it? We'll get some dinner." Without waiting for a response, she patted Luke's sore back once and then headed off through the woods, the rucksack settled comfortably between her shoulder blades.

Luke was hunched over, hands on his knees and breathing heavily, as he stared after her. Once she was gone, he shook his head and sent his blue hair tossing. That was some girl…

Twenty minutes later, the cart and lumber was dropped off at the carpentry. Luke was anxiously waiting outside the entrance of the Brass Bar; the light from the streetlamps shimmered on the water. Even from the outside, he could hear the voices from within the building. He tapped nervously against the handle of the axe strapped to his belt, while his eyes searched for signs of an orange shirt. Never before had he agreed to a dinner with a girl before—well, he didn't really agree to it, but that wasn't the point. Though he didn't want to admit it, he was out of practice with the whole dating thing.

Wait, IS this a date? Luke froze as the thought occurred to him. Before he could ponder the matter further, Luna walked past the carpenter during her evening stroll. As she passed, a pale hand rose up and her nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Is the word bath in your vocabulary, grease-bag?" she spat, turning around to shoot a glare.

"Is the word snob in yours?" Luke stuck out his tongue as the girl let out an indignant huff and walked away.

Once she was out of sight, Luke secretly lifted his right arm and sniffed. Wincing, he hastily lowered it. A soft swear was muttered under his breath. Dang, he should've spared some extra time to wash up before he came to the bar.

He had just begun to doubt the whole event when Molly appeared before him. A brown, baggy jacket that went to her mid-thigh (where did she get a jacket that big?) billowed over her small frame, while her mysterious rucksack was rested on her back. "Hey." A flustered smile appeared on her tired face. "Sorry I was late. I needed to bring my animals back to the barn, but Mr. Spots was being so stubborn."

Luke raised an eyebrow at the name. "Mr. Spots?"

"My cow."

"Of course," Luke mumbled. He opened the door to the bar and exaggerated a bow. "After you, milady."

"Thank you, kind sir." She chuckled and entered the restaurant, Luke following behind her. The door closed with a small thump behind them, as the air instantly became heavy with alcohol and sweat. The sounds of mugs clinking and loud voices came from all around. Usually the bar was not very busy, but tonight the restaurant was bustling with people. Kathy turned to them as she served a cocktail to a nearby customer. "Sit wherever you like!" she called back to them, distracted. "I'll come by in just a moment!"

Luke raised his hand in thanks, and then led Molly to a quiet corner of the building. Thankfully, Selena was off duty tonight and the stage was empty. He didn't need that sort of embarrassment.

The two of them settled into a small table and sat across from one another. Out of the corner of his eye, Luke spotted Owen noticing him and Molly together. A cheeky smile started to spread on the miner's face. With just a glance, the carpenter knew what his friend was thinking: I was wrong after all—you did manage to get a date! Now just don't mess it up! Then again, knowing Owen, his thoughts were probably much cruder. At least he had the decency to leave Molly and Luke at peace.

"So," Molly said over the noise. "What's good here?"

Luke watched as she shrugged off the over-sized jacket and hung it on the back of the chair. Recalling from memory, he automatically said, "Never try the chicken when you're with me or Owen—Chase purposely makes it dry when we come. You'd be safer with the burgers since Hayden makes them—same goes for the drinks."

"What did you guys do to make Chase hate the two of you so much?" Molly asked incredulously.

Luke shrugged. "Chase would say that it's bad enough that we exist. That and it might have something to do with the prank we pulled on him when we were ten."

"Do I even want to know what the prank was?"

At that moment Kathy appeared with her notebook and pen in hand. "There's a reason why Chase doesn't like toadstools," she added, glaring at Luke.

Molly shook her head. "You are one devious person, honey-boy."

"Thank you." He seemed genuinely pleased at that.

Kathy rolled her eyes and said, "So what am I getting for you two?"

"Um, I'll have a mushroom burger with a diet coke, please," Molly said politely.

The waitress nodded and jotted the order down in her notepad. Then she turned to Luke. "Let me guess. A coconut cocktail and grilled chicken?"

Molly glanced at him in confusion. "I thought you said not to try the chicken."

"I just like to order it so it's more work for Chase," he said simply. "Owen does the same thing."

"Devious," Molly repeated.

Kathy finished writing the orders and expertly flipped the cover of the notepad shut. Shoving it in her pocket, she glanced between the farmer and the carpenter suspiciously. "Honey, what did he do to make you go to dinner with him?" she asked Molly. "I can get my daddy to kick him out if you want."

"Hey!" protested Luke. "I'm here every other night! I'm a loyal customer!"

Molly just laughed and said, "Nah, don't worry about me, Kathy. I have some pepper-spray in my bag if he gets too rambunctious—not to mention an axe, a sickle, and some other painful tools."

"If you say so, honey. Just call if you need something." With a swish of her ponytail, Kathy turned and left; her cowboy boots stomping noisily behind her.

"I should never have taught you to use that axe," grumbled Luke.

Molly just laughed again. "Should've thought about that before, genius."

There was a moment of awkward silence while the noise around them continued. Hamilton was sitting at the bar and his cheeks were flushed a dark red. Somebody had to much to drink... "So," Luke started, "What made you want to come to the Brass Bar? I have dinner here pretty often and have never seen you before."

Molly brushed a lock of brown hair out of her face. "Like I said before: it was late and I was starving. All of that chopping really tires you out."

Luke couldn't help but snort. "Heh, try doing that every single day."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you try and get up at six every morning, water the crops, pull the weeds, brush the animals, milk the cows, collect eggs, and let the animals out, and all before seven. Not to mention, going out to chop lumber for hours on end."

"I get up at six too," Luke said sheepishly. "Every day."

"And what time do you go to bed?"

"Uh, ten."

Molly smirked. "See how dead-exhausted you are from running a farm, and not being able to rest until it's midnight. Then you 'll know what I mean."

Luke was saved from answering when Kathy came with arms filled with food. "A mushroom burger with fries and a diet coke," she said, lowering the meal for Molly. "And for the devious one, a burnt chicken with a coconut cocktail." She set the food before said devious one.

"Thanks, Kathy!" Luke said gratefully.

"Yeah, thank you," added Molly.

"No problem. Just remember your pepper-spray…" The waitress hurried away to another table while Molly chuckled, much to Luke's annoyance.

Luke grabbed his knife and fork and roughly began to cut through the overly charred chicken. Despite its dryness, it was nicely spiced and the smell of rosemary wafted gently in the air. Molly took a sip of the cool and fizzy soda, and then nibbled on a golden fry. "Hey, Luke?" she began, oddly tentative.

"What's up?" he responded, reaching over to steal one of her fries. Molly rolled her eyes but didn't complain. Instead, she took a handful of the cut potatoes and dumped it on the carpenter's plate. He eagerly shoved several into his mouth and she laughed good-humoredly.

"I haven't really been here long, so I haven't gotten a chance to get to know anybody really well yet…"

"Yeah..?" he prompted through a full mouth.

"Well, I was kind of wondering, you know, if it's alright…"

"Spit it out already, Molls."

She shyly continued, "If I could ask a few questions about you."

Luke blinked and for a moment he forgot to chew. Swallowing unchewed food, he coughed harshly and earned several questioning glances from the other customers.

"Eh…are you okay?" Molly asked concernedly at the hacking boy.

"Fine…" Once Luke recovered, he looked at her with watery eyes. "You want to ask questions—"*cough* "—about me?"

"If you don't want to—"

"No, no! I want to!" he said too quickly. He cleared his throat once more and tried to keep his tone even. "I mean, I suppose I could answer a few questions. If you really want me to…"

Luke waited for Molly to speak, but she just sat there eating. "Eh…okay. Go," he prompted awkwardly.

"Shhh. I'm thinking." There was a long moment of silence and Luke wondered if she was really thinking, or if she was just using this as an excuse to eat without interruptions. He was just about to say something when she began. Holding her hands formally in front of her, she said, "I suppose we should start off simple. So where are you from?"

"Born and raised here," he responded promptly.

"Thought as much. So what's your favorite color?"

"Electric blue or flaming red."

She quirked an eyebrow, her glance automatically raising to his brightly colored bandanna. "Age?"

"Twenty-four." Huh, only two years older than she was...

The questions continued like this for a while; her asking simple questions and him answering promptly. It wasn't until they were almost finished with their meals when she asked a question that Luke was dreading.

"Okay, I know this one is a bit private, but is Bo your brother or cousin or..?"

Luke bit his lip. "He's my cousin," he stated simply. Please don't let her ask…

"Then why isn't he living with his mom and dad then?" Crud.

He looked down at his food and tried to keep his tone light. "You know, I'm feeling sort of jealous. I thought this was going to be a one-on-one Luke-related interview, but then you brought up Bo."

Molly raised an eyebrow, clearly not falling for his trick, but played along anyways. "Okay then, what else would you like me to ask?"

"Well, you never asked me how I like my pancakes. I hide my secrets very well, but a bit of flattery goes a long ways too."

"Fine. So how do you like your pancakes, oh Great One?" She stabbed a juicy mushroom with her fork.

"Soft in the inside, tons of honey, and lots of butter."

"Why am I not surprised?"

Luke shrugged and smiled. Then suddenly, the smile turned sad. A faraway look appeared in his eyes, as if he was remembering something from a different time. Thinking that she would find out eventually, he took a deep breath. "The reason Bo is living with us is because both of his parents died in a car accident a few years ago…along with my mom." He was expecting to hear the usual "I'm sorry" or "You poor thing" that others always said to him, but when he glanced at Molly, she was sitting quietly with her eyes downcast. Her mouth twitched and it was like she was mulling over something.

Then Molly's voice came quietly, as soft as a whisper, and he had to strain to hear her over the noise. "I would express my condolences, but I'm sure you already get enough of that. All that I can say is that I understand." As if a flip had been switched, her voice became oddly detached. "My own parents died two years ago…which is why I moved here. To try and start over again…"

She let her words trail off to silence, and he realized that this was the closest he had seen her to letting down her guard. For the first time, neither one of them felt the need to break the silence. Sometimes, there was just nothing to say and both of them understood that. Sometimes, just letting each other know that they were there was enough.

Even though the sounds of the people continued, it was like an invisible barrier appeared around Molly and Luke; it allowed them to detach themselves from the world until everything, except the two of them, became insignificant and unfocused. It was strange how everyone else seemed so happy, yet were utterly oblivious to the two people sitting in their own bubble of grief.

Neither of them knew how much time had passed, but suddenly they both came back from their personal thoughts when Kathy gently shook them on their shoulders. "Come on, you two," she said firmly but still with sympathy. "The bar is closing and it's time to go."

Molly blinked. "But it's only around seven o'clock."

The waitress shook her head. "Dear, it's almost midnight. Everyone else is gone."

Luke glanced around and saw that the only ones left besides the three of them was Hayden obsessively cleaning out glasses at the bar, and Owen passed out on a table, his mouth wide open and drool spilling onto the surface. "I guess time just flew by," said Luke, rather shocked. At some point while they were thinking, Kathy must had come to clean their table because the leftovers of their meals were gone.

"Oh gosh, I have to get home!" Molly immediately scrambled up from the table and hurriedly put on her jacket. "I need to make sure my animals are alright! Sorry, Luke, Kathy, I have to go!"

"Wait, Molls!" Luke tried to call, but the door was already shut behind her. He sighed, and took out his wallet. "I guess that leaves me to pay."

Kathy smiled sympathetically, a touch of sadness to it, as she touched her hand to his. "Don't worry, it's on the house. Let's just say it's a reward for my loyal customer, eh?" She winked and Luke smiled appreciatively.

"Thanks, Kat. I won't forget."

"No problem." Then she hesitated and looked back at her passed out boyfriend. "Though…if you can do just one favor for me..."

"Take Owen home?" he guessed.

Kathy nodded. "Yup. Chloe came by not to long ago, saying that she had to give a message to Owen. The message was that Ramsey told her to tell Owen that if he wasn't home by midnight, then he wasn't allowed back until morning." She checked her watch. "And midnight was officially five minutes ago."

"Sure, I'll bring him back. It's the least I can do."

"Thanks, Luke. Chloe also said that she'll be waiting out on the porch for him to come home, poor dear. Anyways, I have to do a few more things before I call it a night."

"Right, catch you later, Kathy."

Kathy waved goodbye and trotted over to her father. He thought he heard Hayden mutter, "My girl deserves better than some drunk." Then, there was a mysterious slapping sound, followed by cowboy boots angrily clicking away.

Luke walked over to his sleeping friend. "Come on, Owen. Seems like you're staying at my place tonight. Again."

"Just five more minutes, gramps," Owen muttered in his stupor, his head nodding off into the carpenter's neck. Luke wrapped his arms around his friend, and he half-carried-half-dragged him out of the bar. "Dude, I'm in NO WAY your gramps," he muttered. It was going to be a long night.

Pieces of Lumber Left: 604

Number of Drinks Owen Had: Let's just say, it's a wonder that he didn't pass out sooner.


	7. Day Four (Part 2)

Day Four: Part Two

In some ways, Owen was more mature than his best friend. He knew when to shut up and apologize (unlike a certain friend), he didn't have that big of an ego (unlike a certain friend), and he was usually more levelheaded (unlike a certain friend). Then again, at times he was even worse than his certain friend…

"You seriously…need to…cut down on…the snacks, bro…" Luke wheezed from underneath his friend's weight, readjusting his arms to better support the miner. Owen was leaning heavily on Luke as they finally arrived at the Garmon Mine District. Eyes half-lidded, the miner mumbled a tune under his alcohol-smelling breath while Luke dragged him forward.

Just as Kathy had said, Chloe was sitting impatiently on the steps in front of the blacksmith's shop. Her fingers tapped an erratic beat as she peered in the dark for her friends. A small puff took form in the air in front of her when she sighed. If Owen continued to come back drunk, she would have to kill him. She debated the best methods to do so when, finally, moonlight shone on a shock of blue hair in the distance. Then it wasn't long before the entirety of her friends came into view. She leapt up from where she sat and ran to them; the chilly air nipped at her bare arms and legs.

"What took you guys so long?" Chloe asked, immediately going to the other side of Owen. Wincing under the pressure, she raised the miner's arm over her shoulders and helped to lead him into the carpentry.

"It isn't easy lugging around a passed out miner who's almost twice my size, Chloe," Luke huffed, exasperated.

Owen slurred in his drowsy state, "Kathy, I thought you liked my big muscles…"

"Just shut up, man."

Luke and Chloe were well rehearsed as they supported their friend in between them. They went at a painfully slow pace while they inched towards the carpentry. When they were only a foot or so away, Chloe ducked underneath her cousin's weight, leaving Luke to fare by himself. Running ahead, she opened the heavy door for the men. From years of playing and racing through the carpentry, she knew the way by heart and led her friends past the store's counter and through the dining room. While she preferred the musty scent of the mines or the warmth of the forge, feverish against her skin, the smell of wood chippings were just as familiar. Chloe glimpsed to the left and noticed that the door to Dale's study was closed, and a soft light was emitted from underneath the doorway.

As the trio slowly crept towards Luke's bedroom, they could hear music pouring out of the door that stood ajar. At first Chloe couldn't understand the lyrics, but as they got closer she could pick out words of the song. Her crystal-blue eyes widened when she recognized it.

"Oh Goddess, I forgot," Luke muttered, staggering under Owen's weight. "Goddess, why tonight?"

Without even touching it, the door opened to reveal a scene that would never leave their memories.

"Bo-bo," Chloe gasped, using the nickname only she was allowed to use.

"Losing him was blue like I'd never known," Bo was dancing on top of his bed that he usually kept neat but was now in disarray—sheets were sliding off while pillows were tossed in random spots. Bo, himself, was wearing red boxers that were printed with the smiling face of Winnie the Pooh. On the bedside table sat an old radio and the song "Red" flowed through its speakers. Bo sung along with the high, sweet voice of the singer.

"Missing him was dark grey all alone," Bo's singing was not something that anyone should have to suffer through. It was like a mix between somebody sliding their fingernails on a chalkboard, somebody just as evil boiling elephants, and one of those cards that repeats a programmed sound—but even more annoying.

"Forgetting him was like trying to know somebody you've never met," With eyes lightly closed, Bo sung into a hairbrush that was clasped in his hand; his skinny hips swayed to the beat.

"But loving him was red," Bobbing his foot, the young boy pointed at the three people at the doorway as if he was the star and they were his audience—which, in some way, was quite true.

"You just had to loan him your CDs, didn't you, Chloe?" Luke's features were twisted up in a pained expression as he tried to tune out his roommate's singing.

At the new voice, Bo's eyes opened and he gasped. "Egad!" he shrieked, dropping the hairbrush. Chloe could feel her cheeks warm as Bo clutched a pillow and held it in front of the ever-smiling bear boxers. It was an odd contrast when his face, including the tips of his ears, turned a sunburned red while his knuckles became white from holding the pillow so tightly.

"I would laugh right now if my back wasn't breaking," panted Luke. Meanwhile, the singer's voice on the radio continued to play despite the currently awkward scene. "Bo, you can die from embarrassment right after you clear the couch, okay?"

That obviously wasn't okay with Bo. The red on his face drained to a pale white, and his eyes rolled back into his head. Then, as if he was pushed over by a magical breeze, his body slowly fell backwards until he landed with a thump on his bed. Luke thought he could hear him mutter "Oh Goddess," right before he fell.

Luke groaned, "Crud. He's always too light-headed. Chloe, just get that couch cleared before my back really does break!"

Chloe ducked from underneath Owen's arm again and rushed to the couch where the miner usually rested after a night of spirits. She tossed stray papers, empty chip bags, and other items to the floor. Then Luke staggered to the couch and eased the miner onto it. The miner sprawled there and he drowsily opened his eyes. Looking up at Chloe he said, "Is it breakfast time yet?" Then his head fell back into the cushions and his eyelids fluttered closed. Only seconds later there were rumbling snores mixing into the music.

"Pathetic," Luke mumbled. "Well, at least he'll be comfortable here for the night."

"Is he going to be alright?" Chloe asked, worry creeping into her voice.

"Yeah, he's just going to have a rough hang-over tomorrow; that's for sure."

"No, I know that Owen will be fine—if Ramsey doesn't kill him first. I meant Bo-bo." Chloe pointed to where the boy was still passed out.

His whole back ached when he rolled his shoulders. "Your Bo-bo is going to be fine—he just fainted. Now let's go wake up the pop-star."

Chloe's cheeks flushed even more at the nickname. Luke climbed on the bed and hovered over his friend. Shaking Bo roughly on the shoulders, he said, "Bo! Come on, time to get up!"

The boy's eyelids fluttered open and he rubbed at his eyes. "What? What happened?" he mumbled. That's when he saw Chloe. His cheeks resumed a bright red. "Oh."

"Hi…" The little girl waved sheepishly, feeling rather out of place.

Luke shook his head and jumped off the bed. "Egad? Seriously, Bo, you read way too many old chick books."

Discretely pulling the covers further up his waist, Bo looked at Owen; he was sprawled out on the couch with one of his legs hanging off to the side. "Is he staying here again?" he said, reaching over to switch off the radio, silencing the song.

Chloe, being quite generous kept her eyes downcast when she nodded. "Yup, Ramsey kicked him out until morning."

"Oh, okay…" Bo muttered.

Luke patted the girl on the back. "Come on, Chloe. It's late and you should be in bed. You can see your boyfriend tomorrow."

"He's not my boyfriend!" Chloe protested, stomping her foot and glaring at the carpenter. She didn't notice the way that Bo's shoulders slumped just an inch at the objection. "Besides," she crossed her arms, "Ramsey said that he would be out late too night, so the house would be empty."

"Wait, where is he then?" Luke asked.

Bo spoke up, "I heard him come in a few hours ago. He and Dale are talking in the studies." Ramsey and Dale had been good friends since they were teens, and that is one of the main reasons they live so close together in the Garmon District. Ramsey comes over to the carpentry frequently at night and the two men have their "old dudes' talk" as Luke called it, when they chat over some cold beers in Dale's study.

The carpenter nodded thoughtfully, and then a familiar glint entered his eyes. He spoke over a particularly loud snore that came from the corner. "Chloe, would you mind watching over Owen for a bit?"

"Sure," she nodded, sending her pigtails bobbing.

"Thanks. Bo, we have some spy work to do. Go and get dressed in the bathroom—I don't think that Chloe is ready to see your Winnie the Pooh passion quite yet.:

Feeling as if he would die from embarrassment, Bo wrapped the bedspread around his waist, grabbed a pair of clothes, and hurried off to the bathroom. He didn't meet Chloe's eyes as he passed. Later he would have to return that CD to her…

"Another piece of perfect blackmail," Luke muttered under his breath.

Luke was leaning on the wall outside of his bedroom when Bo met up with him. A single finger hovered over the carpenter's lips for a moment, and then he pointed to the study's closed door. Bo nodded, getting the message. Taking care to minimize the amount of noise from the creaky floorboards, they crept towards the door. The boys bent down on their knees and pressed their ears to the rough grain of the wood. They could just barely make out the whispers of conversation from the opposite side.

"Things just aren't the same, Ramsey," came a gruff voice. "I don't know what to do anymore. We'll need a miracle to pull through this if Luke doesn't win that contest."

Another quieter voice replied, "Do the boys know about this?"

Luke and Bo shared a glance but returned their attentions back to the door when they heard a sigh. "Only so much. Those two already have enough on their plates—they don't need more worry."

"You're going to have to tell them eventually, you know."

"I know, I know," the voice said impatiently. "I just don't know how to bring it up. They're both hardworking and it would break their spirits if I told them."

There was a pause when the quieter voice hesitated. "Does yesterday's date have something to do with your reluctance?"

From outside the door, Luke clenched his teeth. The familiar sound of swishing a bottle could be heard, followed by a quick gulp. "Like I said," answered the rough voice, the tone hardening. "They don't need more worry."

"You miss her," said the person softly.

"We all do… The only difference is how we handle it—Luke puts on a cheery smile, and I just seem like an old, cold man."

There was a low chuckle that held a bit of sadness. "Heh, I can't argue that. So how does Bo cope?"

"I can tell that he tries to be strong, too, but he's just so sensitive—even your Chloe is tougher than he is."

Another laugh. "Chloe is tougher than most adults. I've raised her well."

The other person wasn't as amused. "It's not the same for Bo, though. He was only four when it happened…he doesn't remember what he had lost as much as Luke and I do.

Bo swallowed and looked down, but continued to listen. The other voice became solemn, and a hint of steeliness could be heard underneath the calm. "They need you, Dale. They may seem to be strong, but they still need someone to look up to."

There was a dead silence that followed, and the two boys listening didn't think any more words would be spoken. But then a soft and unsteady sound came from the other side. At first they didn't recognize the foreign noise, but as it grew louder and shakier they knew what it was. Dale—the man who didn't show any weakness, any compassion—was crying. "It's been officially eight years yesterday, Ramsey, since we lost her," his voice choked. "And I still miss her."

The heart-wrenching sound continued for a long time, but the boys didn't stay to listen. Instead, they quietly rose from their crouches and walked back to their room; their spirits were low and remorseful. Luke and Bo entered their bedroom and closed the door behind them with a soft thud. On the ground was Chloe. Her knees were tucked to her chest as she sat beside Owen, who could've been dead to the world if his snoring wasn't so loud.

The girl glanced up. "So how's Ramsey?"

"He's fine," Luke replied, purposely vague, while Bo stayed quiet by his side. "He's still talking to Pops, so he might be home really late. If you want, there's another couch in the living room. You might want to consider sleeping there until Ramsey is ready to leave."

"Yeah, I guess that's best," the girl sighed. She got up from where she sat and started to walk towards the door. Turning back, she waved and smiled. "Night, Luke. Night, Bo."

"Sleep tight." Bo managed a tiny smile.

Luke said, "Later, alligator." Chloe was about to leave when Luke called out again. "Oh! I forgot something."

Chloe turned around and watched as the carpenter took something out of his pockets. "What is it?"

"I forgot to give you this for your apple trick with Gill." Luke tossed something and Chloe easily caught it in her hands. The outer plastic crinkled when she read the label: The World's Best Chocolate. Laughing, she waved once more and left the boys alone.

"You should've let me give that to her," Bo muttered, as they climbed in their separate beds. Turning off the bedside lights, they ducked beneath the covers. A long stretch of time passed while the boys tried to fall asleep to the sound of Owen's loud snoring, and to no avail. Luke's yellow eyes shone in the darkness until he let them flutter close.

With eyes still shut, he heard Bo whisper, "Luke?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you awake?"

"What do you think, idiot?"

"I'm scared…" he said tentatively.

"Of what? The boogeyman, or Chloe coming in to see your Winnie the Pooh pajamas again?"

"Don't be a jerk."

"That's like asking me not to chop wood."

When no reply came, Luke sighed and turned over; his eyes easily picked out his roommate in the darkness. "Okay, I'm sorry. What are you scared about?"

Still no reply. Making his voice deliberately softer, Luke whispered, "Bo, Owen is sleeping like Chief after he eats ten stacks of pancakes. He won't hear anything, and you know I won't tell a thing to anyone—not even for precious blackmail. Now, what are you scared about?"

There was a huff of breath. Then the carpenter heard the small voice of Bo. "I'm scared about Dale…and for the carpentry. I guess it's just everything."

"Dale is as tough as nails—you know that. He'll be strong just like he always is. And as for the carpentry, we'll figure it all out."

"But what if you don't win that contest?" The boy's voice quivered. "What then?"

"Bo, relax, already. I got it all in the bag. I'm the bestest wood-chopping carpenter there is, remember?" said Luke, trying to make his confidence sound more authentic than it actually was. "Don't tell me that you've lost faith in my wicked abilities."

A small laugh echoed in the room. "No, I haven't. But..."

"But what?"

"Well, what about Molly?"

"What about her?" Luke asked, confused.

"Doesn't she need the reward money too?" Bo's voice carried the innocence of the child he was. "I mean, why else would she enter the contest?"

Luke was stumped on for a moment. "I…don't know about that, Bo. But that doesn't matter. I'm here, remember? I won't let anything happen to you, and I won't let us become homeless. No girl could make me change my mind about that."

The other boy just muttered something inaudible in response, and then lapsed into silence once again. Luke sighed, knowing better. "There's something else you want to talk about, isn't there?"

"I know you don't like to talk about," came Bo's careful response, "especially now…"

"Bo, out with it already."

Luke had to strain to hear the boy's response. "Do you miss your mama a lot?"

The carpenter could feel his chest tighten. "Yeah, I do…"

"I miss mine, too," Bo said wistfully, "but I don't really remember much about her—or papa either."

"You were only four, Bo. You're not expected to remember."

"I know that. It's odd though…"

"What is?" Luke asked curiously, pulling his blanket up against his chin. "Bo, if you make me drag every bit of information out of you, I will feed you to Chief."

Bo smiled, knowing that Luke never actually acted on any of his threats. "It's just odd how whenever I think of my parents…you and Dale always come to mind instead."

Taken aback, Luke didn't really know how to respond to that. "Like I said," he whispered finally. "I'm always here."

However, there was no response but soft snoring. The carpenter sighed and turned onto his back, looking up at the ceiling once again. The sounds of his friends' snores became akin to comforting while his mind wandered. As the night went on, his conscious thoughts became unconscious dreams. The carpenter didn't notice the tear that slid down his face as he slept.

Luke drifted off and dreamed of a jasmine perfume that he hadn't breathed in for years, fingers combing through his unruly hair while the person behind him hummed a tune as familiar to him as his name, and the warmth that came with a special, cheerful smile. The dreams drifted from bittersweet memories and progressed to the more recent—a bright orange shirt that held the scent of fresh crops, deep hazel eyes that turned the color of honey in the light, and a nose that crinkled when an infectious laugh occurred. Luke's eyelids fluttered as the pleasant dreams continued.

Number of Days that Bo Embarrassed Himself by Singing: At least once a week.


	8. Day Five (Morning)

Day Five (Day)

Weak light filtered through the bedroom, but it was just enough to wake Luke. His yellow eyes opened and they were as clear as ever. The carpenter quietly pulled the covers over and snuck out of bed (fully dressed, as usual). One glance and several snores told him that Bo and Owen were still fast asleep.

Bare feet padded softly on the cool floor as Luke pulled open his bedside table's drawer. It slid open with a slight creaking noise, and the carpenter reached into it. His fingers felt around for something cool and sharp, and in a moment, it was in his grasp. He withdrew his hand and used his index finger and thumb to hold the item up to the light. It was a small, white crystal shard that glistened dimly in the soft light. At just the right angles, you could see faint, cloudy wisps that were hidden inside.

Luke tried not to chuckle as he placed the shard in the center of the room. He held a bundle of shirt over his nose as he took one step; a crunching noise could be heard as the shard gave way. Then suddenly dark, smoky billows rose from the ground and slowly floated in the air. The carpenter didn't stay to watch as the cloud grew larger. Instead, he raced out of the bedroom to grab a quick breakfast—he didn't want to be there when Owen and Bo wake up.

Molly was leaning against the forest's gate as she scanned the paths. Thankfully, the temperature only hinted at the hot summer weather that would soon come. From the distance, she could see the slim figure of Renee as she let her animals wander over the gently rolling hills. The brunette waved happily once, before taking a brush out to groom the strolling cows. After returning the wave, Molly sighed and checked her watch once more: it was a forty-five minutes past seven. She anxiously glanced around but still didn't see anyone else. A seed of doubt started to worm its way in her thoughts; he was never this late before. Thoughts churned in her mind, and she wondered nervously if she had asked too much last night.

"Ready for another day of Your Axe and How to Use It 101?" a boisterous voice said next to her.

The girl swung around and faced Luke; a smug smile was on his face. She crossed her arms and frowned, trying to hide the flutters that crept over her skin when he looked at her. "You're late," she said petulantly.

"Sorry. I was held up."

"By what, exactly?"

The glint in his eyes that she had grown so familiar too appeared, as well as his characteristically playful grin. "Let's just say that Bo and Owen won't be too happy with me when they wake up."

The mood instantly became lighter when she chuckled and shook her head. "I don't want to know, right?"

"Right," he confirmed, walking past her to open the gate. He held it aside and bent in an exaggerated bow, just like he did yesterday. "After you."

Molly dipped her own little curtsy and walked past him into the woods. Instantly the noises from the Horn Ranch disappeared, and were replaced with the natural echoes of the forest. It was like what occurred in a mall: the noisy chatter and hustle of the shopping center all but disappeared once you step into a store.

"So where are we going today?" Molly asked, her axe already resting on her shoulder.

Luke simply shrugged as he let the gate noisily bang shut behind him. "No idea. Let's just see where we'll end up." With that, he strode past her into a seemingly random direction.

Molly raised an eyebrow in doubt. "That seems like a pretty good way of getting lost."

Even though he didn't look back, she could tell that he was smirking. "I thought that I've already proved my extreme wilderness skills? Or do we need to go find another beehive?"

The girl raised her hands up in surrender and followed the carpenter's lead. Shaking her head, she wondered what it was with guys and their need to control the directions. The cicadas' endless torrent of twittering kept them company as they weaved their way through the forest's paths. The falling leaves slowly crisscrossed in the air around them, and then landed gently to the grounds.

Even though the path seemed arbitrary, Luke never faltered in his steps as he led them past hundreds of trees. At last they came upon a seemingly ordinary clearing; just like last time. Molly couldn't tell if it was the one they had been to before, or a completely new one. "We're here!" Luke proclaimed happily, even though Molly didn't know where here was. However, the farmer knew better than to question the carpenter's decision when it's about the forest. Instead, she silently took up her axe and went to the nearest tree.

A hand on her shoulder abruptly pulled her back before she could swing.

"Ah ah ah!" Luke shook his finger as if she was a child caught misbehaving. "Lesson first, chopping after. You did pay me to teach you the art of chopping."

Molly gave him a doubtful look but didn't protest. Lowering her tool, she asked, "Fine then. What technique are you going to teach me today?"

The carpenter smirked and held out his hand, gesturing for the axe. "There's more to being a carpenter than just chopping trees, Molls."

Warily, she placed the tool in his hand and he hooked it onto his belt. "You do know that a carpenter is different from a lumberjack, right? One cuts down the trees to get the lumber, while the other one builds with it."

Luke blinked incredulously. "Really?"

Molly snorted at the boy's blank look. "For someone who acts so smart, you can be really thick at times."

"Shut up, smarty-pants, and pay attention. The Thick-Head is trying to teach you something."

With an amused look, Molly watched curiously as Luke turned his gaze above. He seemed to search for something in the dense foliage overhead, but what it was that he was looking for, Molly could only guess. Puckering his lips, a long and pure note drew out, lingering in the summer air around them.

"What are you—" Molly began, but was cut off when Luke held out his hand like a stop sign.

"Shh," he whispered, eyes still searching above.

The girl's eyebrows furrowed impatiently as she tried to understand what he was doing. The area around them was strangely quiet—even the cicada's chatter was still—and the only sounds left were the soft rustling of the leaves from the wind. She was just about to protest again when a familiar noise appeared—the same pure note that Luke had whistled—but this time it came from above.

Molly looked up. Sitting on a branch was a small red bird, only the size of her fist. It opened its brightly colored beak and repeated the sound once more. Then there was a streak of blue and another bird appeared on a different branch, just a few feet away. It chirped the single note, and the red bird sung it back. The single note bounced back and forth between the two creatures, but then a larger black bird joined in. One by one, birds of all different colors landed on the canopy overhead until Luke and Molly were surrounded by them. Dozens of beady eyes stared curiously at the two people; occasionally the same note would be heard at random directions.

"Watch this," Luke said softly, a hint of mirth in his voice. Taking care not to make any sudden movements, he held his hands together, one clasping the other, and pressed them to his mouth. The fingers on top of the other hand rose and fell in a spritely dance; it reminded Molly of when a person plays a flute. Different notes occurred, mixing together to make a short, lively tune.

The birds copied the rhythm perfectly, and all around them the feathery creatures erupted in chorus. Molly marveled at the numerous, flamboyant birds as they sung the repeated tune over and over again. Soon, neither the carpenter nor the farmer could tell where the song began and where it ended. As Molly listened, the tune seemed oddly familiar…

"Red?" She quirked an eyebrow while keeping her eyes on the birds.

Luke smirked as he listened intently to the wild performance. "Yeah, it was the first thing that came to mind."

"I didn't think that you would like that type of music."

"Oh, I don't, but one of my friends does." His tone held unbridled amusement.

"Do you mean Chloe?"

A sudden laugh joined the bird's song. "And a few others."

Molly was puzzled at that statement, but she didn't linger on it for long. The music that floated through the air seemed straight out of a fairytale, and just as unbelievable.

"How did you do that?" she marveled.

Luke chuckled at her baffled response. "They're songbirds," he explained over the echoing melody. "Many types of birds have the ability to mimic other sounds or voices. Every once in a while I like to whistle a tune for them, but this is the largest crowd I've seen in a long time. They must like you, Molls."

The girl slowly drew her eyes away from the feathered concert above them, and turned her gaze to the carpenter instead. Her amber eyes took in the carpenter's yellow ones as he continued to direct his attention towards the show; not knowing that he was being watched. His eyes reminded Molly of those of a cat's—they held the same wittiness, and the distinctive color could match a feline's, too. Yet no cat's eyes could contain the same lively enthusiasm that Luke's held; nor were there the same layers of depth. And no one can replace the way that Luke sees things—he would always seek out the positive in any situation, despite the number of bad things happening.

Her own amber eyes flitted away from his face, his cheerful smile, and absentmindedly traced over his lean limbs that were corded with wiry muscle. While she made her hidden observations, she didn't notice that the bird's tune had unexpectedly stopped. Suddenly, she was staring at a pair of yellow eyes—the exact ones she had just studied—and they were directed at her.

"Would you care for an encore?" Luke said happily, jolting Molly out of her reverie.

"Huh?" Molly blinked, her cheeks flushing a bright red. "Oh…uh, yeah, sure," she muttered, not knowing the question that was asked.

Luke beamed. If he had noticed the girl's awkwardness, he didn't show it. "Do you know how to whistle?" he inquired.

Molly couldn't help but feel nervous as the birds continued to watch the two; their tiny heads dipping to the sides as they waited for another song. "No, not really," she said uneasily. "I've always wanted to, but I've never got the chance to learn."

"Well, now you do. Here, I'll teach you." Luke clasped his hands together once more and another high note rung out. The birds all around erupted into melody, the note varying by the different birds. After repeating it a few times, the birds fell silent and expectantly stared at the carpenter.

"Start off simple," Luke advised, gesturing for her to copy the sound. "Just press your lips together and blow."

Molly did as he asked, but no sound came out except tuneless sputtering. She glanced at Luke, who was patiently watching, and tried again. The same hopeless result occurred, and a dark bird chirped impatiently. "Give me a break, I'm trying my best," she muttered to no one in particular. Molly irritably blew a strand of hair out of her eyes, puckered her lips, and blew.

This time, a single, high note stretched out for a moment. Ironically, the sound took Molly in surprise and the note faltered, then sputtered out. But that was enough for the birds. The feathered animals opened their beaks and the sound was mimicked exactly. "Wicked." Molly smiled, pushing back a stray hair.

Luke returned the grin. "Great job. Now try this." Without clasping his hands, he pursed his lips slightly and three short notes occurred.

It took Molly only two tries for her to repeat the sound. As the birds chirped along, she couldn't help but throw her head back and laugh while Luke watched her with a satisfied smile. The tune was cut short when a sudden, piercing yell boomed through the forest. In a second, the birds erratically stopped their singing and flew off in all directions, sending dozens of colorful feathers drifting down to the ground.

"What's that noise?" Luke asked, pressing his hands to his ears.

Molly clenched her jaw. "I think I know what it is. Follow me." Without another word, she took off through the forest.

"Molls, wait up!" She didn't turn back and Luke swore softly. "Ditched two days in a row. Lovely." Luke sighed and chased after her.

Molly didn't turn her head back when Luke caught up. He ran next to her and easily kept up. Molly didn't hesitate as her feet took her through the winding paths.

"How do you even know where you're going?" Luke said in between breaths.

"Trust me. I know."

"We're supposed to be chopping wood, not going on a wild-goose chase."

"Oh, really? Last I checked, we were orchestrating a feathery concert," countered Molly.

Luke grumbled but continued to follow the girl. Glancing to the sides as they ran, he took in their surroundings. Throwing leaves adrift, he skidded to an abrupt halt.

"Molly, stop!"

The girl held back her steps but continued to jog in place. "What?" she called, turning to look at the carpenter; he was already a few feet behind. "Is there another pitfall?"

Luke shook his head. "Worse. We're heading straight for the Witch Princess!"

"I know that!" Molly said impatiently, turning around on her heel. "And if we don't hurry up, we won't get there in time!"

"Wait, Molly, you're not supposed to go there! It's dangerous! She'll cast hexes on you!"

Molly just shook her head and continued to jog ahead, leaving the carpenter quickly behind. Luke hesitated, but he already knew what he was going to do. In a moment, he caught up to the girl. "You know," he panted, his boots crunching the leaves on the ground with every step, "this is the now third time that you've abandoned me."

A small smile spread on her face. "I remember hearing that the Witch Princess would fall madly in love with you, so why would you need me?"

Luke shrugged. "Well, any sane girl would fall for me, but she's not sane."

The girl rolled her eyes. "Uh huh. Well, why don't we have a race to see who gets to the witch's house first?"

Luke immediately picked up the pace. "Last one there is a hexed egg!"

By the time they reached the house, Luke and Molly were panting heavily. Both of them were too winded to focus on who had run the race, so they secretly called it a tie—for now. A wandering turtle leisurely strolled past the two as they took in their surroundings. The air smelled of warm mud and was heavy with humidity from the miniature swamp nearby; it made them feel as if they were stuck in a sauna. A worn-down hut was nestled between the swamp and the trees, and it gave the area an eerie feeling. A large crow was perching on the roof. It opened its beak and let out a blood-chilling caw.

"This place is creepy." A shiver crept down Luke's spine, while his eyes frantically darted around.

Suddenly, a flash of silver and two red discs took up the carpenter's view. "Who are you to call my home creepy?"

"Ahhh!" Luke shrieked, pulling back as he recognized the person who was currently invading his personal boundaries. The Witch Princess's normally orange eyes shimmered a dangerous red as she glared at the startled carpenter; her pale face was only inches away from his. Her petite mouth was twisted up in a pout, while her hands were stubbornly clenched at her sides. The usual smell of rosemary and magic lingered around the witch and clung to her simple, black dress.

Lifting her chin haughtily, she poked the carpenter hard in the chest. "Do you see me barging into your home and insulting it? No! Do you see me chopping down your land and disrupting all of the critters? No! So don't you dare call my home creepy, you incompetent little twerp!"

For once, Luke was at a loss for words. He sputtered helplessly under the witch's fierce gaze. The witch's harsh glare could even give Gill a run for his money. Glancing at Molly, Luke's eyes screamed silently for help. Molly tried her best not to laugh as she gently rested her hand on the witch's shoulder. Pulling her back, she said, "Relax, Princess, he meant no disrespect—he can just be an idiot at times…"

"Hey—" Luke began to protest but was silenced by Molly's warning look.

"Hmph." Witch Princess crossed her arms and reluctantly pulled back. "Molly, dear, you should really whip some manners into that boy."

"Dear?!" Luke gaped, looking at the two women with wild expression. "How do you two know each other?"

"Let's just say that I've helped the princess with a little problem before." Molly smirked while Witch Princess shivered.

"I still hate flies," the silver-haired girl mumbled under her breath. Then, in a louder voice she said, "Molly is allowed here anytime. You on the other hand…" She once again directed her penetrating sneer at the carpenter, while tapping her foot impatiently.

Luke gulped nervously while Molly tried to change the subject. "Princess, we heard a scream. Is everything alright?"

The distraction worked and the princess's eyes softened when she glanced at Molly. "Follow me," she curtly ordered, her tone leaving no room for debate. Turning on her heel, she walked away and disappeared into the house.

Luke seemed uncertain and looked at Molly for advisement, but she just shrugged and followed the witch. They entered the house together and were greeted with the thick scent of herbs. As soon as he stepped through the door, a cool breeze passed over his skin and goose-bumps covered his arms. He really did not like this place…

An over-stuffed bed with pink covers was pushed to the corner, while a separate area held a large, bubbling cauldron. The walls were lined with shelves filled with ancient books, and in between gaps were jars that contained funky stuff. Leaning beside a heavy, wooden table was the witch. On the table was a small box and the witch scanned the contents inside worriedly.

Luke stayed close to Molly as she walked slowly behind the princess. Peering over the two girls' shoulders, he saw a delicate puff-ball of yellow that was only the size of a tennis ball. Suddenly, two black beads appeared on the yellow puff, and Luke realized it was eyes. "Is that…a bird?" he gasped.

Witch Princess drew her eyes away for a second to snap, "What do you think, pea-brain?"

Luke ignored the comment while Molly asked, "What type of bird is it?"

"It's a baby Dendroica Petechia," the witch answered quickly.

The carpenter blinked. "Uh…"

"She means it's a Yellow Warbler," Molly explained.

"Why can't you just call it a yellow thingamajig?" For someone who liked to listen to birds, he wasn't an expert on the actual names.

Both of the girls ignored him. "So what's wrong with it?" the farmer asked, her eyebrows pinched with worry.

"I can't tell for sure. I've found it this morning by my house, but it wouldn't get up. If I could search for the proper ingredients I could find out what's wrong with it, but I need to stay here to make sure it's fed regularly."

"Well, maybe Luke and I could help," Molly volunteered helpfully.

"Wait, what?" Luke blinked. "I thought we were going to chop lumber today!"

He was silenced with a glare. "What do you need?" Molly asked.

The witch bit her lip absentmindedly while her thoughts raced. "I have most of the ingredients for the spell here, but I'm lacking just one crucial thing. It will be difficult to find though…"

"I don't like the sound of that," Luke grumbled, crossing his arms.

A determined, protective look entered Molly's eyes. After taking care of so many animals on the farm, she couldn't bear to see a creature hurt. Luke knew he had lost this battle… "Okay, okay! What is it and where do we look?" he surrendered.

"It's called a Fugue Mushroom," the Witch Princess explained. "It's a rare mushroom with special qualities. You can find it in this forest, actually."

Luke frowned. "So what's the catch?"

"Only one is grown each day…and the Wizard wants it too."

"In other words, we have to search this whole dang forest for one mushroom. And get it before the Wizard does."

The princess shrugged. "More or less."

Molly nodded determinedly. "Let's do it then!"

Luke grumbled something about birds and girls ganging up while Molly dragged him out of the house. "Ta-ta, darlings!" the witch called from behind them. Turning back to the injured chick, she sniggered. "Mortals…"

"You do realize that her royal majesty never told us what this mushroom actually looks like." Luke ducked between two large trees, pulling back branches. They had been searching for the fungus for half of an hour, and so far nothing had been worthwhile.

"Don't worry," Molly said, upturning a rock with her foot. "I had to find her one before."

"What is the history between you two, anyways?" Luke asked curiously.

The girl snorted. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me," he dared.

"I already did, and you didn't believe me."

That caused Luke to pause. "Wait, when did you test me?"

Molly raised her eyebrow. "If I told you, then it wouldn't be a test." She chuckled playfully and continued to search for the fungus. Luke scratched the back of his head, trying to remember when she had quizzed him, but gave up shortly. Girls were just too tricky…

Instead he asked, "So will you at least tell me what the mushroom looks like?"

"Well, it's hard to mistake it with a common mushroom, or even a poisonous one," she explained. "The top part of it is a purple color, and it's spotted with yellowish dots. It's easier to find in the dark because it sparkles slightly."

"Sounds like a pretty cool mushroom," he noted.

"Yeah, but you don't want to take it. If you do, then the Witch Princess and the Wizard will do some horrible stuff to you—they're obsessed with those things."

Luke mumbled, "No kidding."

"Hey," Molly stopped suddenly. "Don't you think it's odd that we haven't seen the Wizard yet? The Witch Princess said that he might be looking for the mushroom too."

"Might," Luke pointed out. "And if he is looking for it, then let's hurry up. I don't want to fight with that dude—he's silent but deadly…"

They covered a lot of ground in the hours that followed. At times the two would split up and then rejoin later, while other times they would stay together to search the woods. As they busily kept their eyes peeled for the special mushroom, one of them would purse their lips and whistle. You could easily distinguish Luke's whistles from Molly's by the length and pitch: Luke could draw out his whistles for a longer period of time, but Molly could hit a larger variety of notes. Every so often a couple of birds would join in with their little tune.

After what felt like the thousandth time, Luke crouched down and upturned a moss-covered rock. It flipped over with a small thump, but there was nothing underneath except worms and earwigs. "Nothing here." Luke sighed as the bugs scuttled away. With tired knees, he rose and glanced up.

"No way." The carpenter breathed as his eyes opened wide. Right in front of him was a hollowed tree; its trunk was carved out and green moss fell from its sides. However, that was not what caught Luke's attention. Inside the carved out tree was a purplish mushroom that was attached to the back of the bark. Under the shade of the trunk, the mushroom shimmered faintly—just like Molly described.

Luke raced to the tree and peered inside. There it was: the unmistakable Fugue Mushroom. "Bingo," he mumbled happily. He reached inside the coarse trunk, and instantly felt the coolness that was caused by the constant shade from within. A centipede shimmied away as his gloved hand gently grabbed at the stem of the mushroom and pulled.

When it didn't come away, Luke grasped his other hand to the outside of the tree for steadiness, and gave the mushroom another hard pull. Still nothing. The carpenter glowered. He would not be beaten by some fungus. Looking over his shoulder, he could spot the color orange through the leafy vegetation. Molly was still occupied by the search. Luke placed both of his hands securely around the fleshy stem, and dug the heels of his boots into the soft dirt. Leaning back, he heaved with all of his might. There was a small pop and the mushroom flung out from the trunk—along with the carpenter.

Luke fell roughly into the dirt, and in his hand he proudly held the Fugue Mushroom. "Molly," he called out, a proud smile on his face. "I've found it!"

There were the sounds of hurried footsteps, and Molly was at Luke's side in an instant. He was happy to see her eyes light up when she saw the glimmering mushroom clutched in his hand. However, that light quickly faded when she asked, "Honey-boy, why are you on the ground?"

Luke leaned back smugly and crossed his arms underneath the back of his head. A lazy smile spread over his face as he looked up; agile fingers twirled the purple mushroom in hand. "Just celebrating my awesomeness; that's all."

The farmer raised a doubtful eyebrow as she looked down at him. "On the ground? Do you really think that's the best place to be?"

"Uh huh."

Molly rolled her eyes and began to walk away. "Please just hurry up. The Witch Princess is probably going to breathe fire since we've taken so long."

Molly wasn't too far from the truth. She didn't even need to knock on the hut's door. It whirled open to reveal a very angry witch. This time, Witch Princess's fury was directed at Luke and Molly.

"Where have you been?" she hissed. Luke could practically see the steam coming from her head. If the witch's glares were electric, there would be two dead people at her doorstep.

"We have it…" Molly said weakly. Luke didn't speak up, but instead he flung the sparkling mushroom into Molly's hands. After this, he quickly ducked behind the famer in a vain attempt to escape the witch's wrath. What a hero…Molly though sarcastically.

The farmer feebly outstretched the Fugue Mushroom to the steaming witch in an offering. "Took you long enough," the witch spat, grabbing the fungus out of the other girl's hands. "Thank you for your incompetent services." With that, the witch slammed the door in Molly's face, making her and Luke jump back in fright.

"You're welcome…I think," Molly stuttered.

Luke poked his head out from behind the girl and called, "Hey, what about the yellow chick! Is it going to be alright?"

A muffled yell came from inside. "None of your business! Now get off my land before I hex you off!" The harsh noise made the carpenter cringe and duck back behind Molly.

"Pleasant, isn't she?" the carpenter muttered.

"She grows on you."

Luke stared. "Really?"

"No, not really."

"I HEARD THAT!" The yell came again, and the two friends sped away from the swamp. Once outside, they spent the rest of the day chopping wood and pretending they had never met the infamous Witch Princess.

Once safely inside, the witch snickered devilishly to herself; the Fugue Mushroom radiated with power in her hand. She opened a chest that was hidden beneath her bed, and inside it contained dozens of the shimmering, purple fungi. The contents shined radiantly from within the chest and the fungi casted a pure, white light over the witch's face. Placing the new one with her collection, she carefully closed the lid and hid it under the bed once more.

Giggling to herself, she then walked over to the table where the small box sat. Inside, the Yellow Warbler stared up at the witch; its black eyes frightened. "Who's the toad now, little Wizard? Heh, I bet you regret casting that spell on me, don't you?" The witch taunted menacingly at her nemesis. A pale finger brushed softly against the chick's fluffy down feathers. "Don't you worry, chickadee, I'll let you go eventually." A dark gleam shone in the Witch Princess's eyes. "Then again, eventually can be an awfully long time for immortals like us…"

Pieces of Lumber Left: 520

Days that the Witch Princess will keep the Wizard captive: Like Luke said, "She's not sane!"


	9. Day Five (Night)

Day Five: (Night)

Two coconut cocktails were already waiting on the table when Luke entered the bar. Even from afar, Luke could tell that one pissed-off miner was guarding the icy drinks. He could feel the tingles down his back from the glare that was following him around the restaurant. Unlike the previous night, the restaurant was at its usual pace and the customers were a fair fewer. Unfortunately, Selena was on duty that night, and she added an extra beat to her choreography when Luke stepped in.

Ignoring the dancer (as usual), Luke made his way through the building and to the other empty seat across from his friend. "Hey, man," he said, lowering himself into the wooden chair. When he reached for one of the cool drinks, the glass covered in perspiration, a sudden hand swooped in and Luke clutched at thin air.

Owen held both cocktails out of his friend's reach, one in each hand. A frown was set on his lips as he shook a free finger at the carpenter. "Nuh uh. No drinks for you until you apologize. And don't you even try to beg to Kathy—she's on my side this time."

"Owen, you should know that I have too many things that I probably should be apologizing for. I can't keep track of them all, so you'll need to be more specific."

The miner wasn't falling for it. He deliberately took long, deep sips from each of the beverages. Once he was done, he vigorously shook his head. "Man, that's zingy tonight! Too bad you aren't getting any, Lukey."

Lukey glared. "I've had a really, really weird day after being yelled at from a psychotic witch, and now you're taking my drink! Now that's a low blow."

A devilish smile played on the miner's lips. "No, what's a low blow is how you pranked me and Bo while we were sleeping."

The blue-haired boy stubbornly crossed his arms. "No idea what you're talking about."

Owen took another long gulp from each drink. "Mmm-hmm. It's a good thing that I can drink so many of these without passing out. I can keep this going for hours…"

Luke continued to glare at his friend while enviously glancing at the cocktails. When he didn't speak, Owen raised the glasses to his lips. The carpenter reached out his hand and said, "Alright, alright, I give! Just put the drinks down and we can talk like adults." His tone sounded like one would use in a gun-point situation.

A smug smile appeared as Owen set down one of the drinks and slid it across the table. "And when do you ever act like an adult?"

"On days that don't end with the letter 'y'." Luke took a much-needed sip; the crisp coolness helped clear his senses.

"Nah, I don't think even then." Owen leaned back in his chair and shook his head. Using a calm, investigator's voice he asked, "So why did you do it, Luke?"

"Owen, it's me we're talking about," Luke said, as if stating the obvious. "Do you honestly believe that I could pass up a perfect opportunity where I could prank both of you?"

"It took us twenty minutes to just find the doorway—the smoke was that thick. I told you that that stuff was dangerous, dude."

Luke raised his hands defensively. "Hey, I may pull a lot of pranks, but I at least know what I'm doing. Before I did anything, I had Mira check it out to make sure it was completely safe."

"Not completely safe," Owen added. "Again, I said that you shouldn't play around with those crystals. Especially if you knew it had the fumes inside."

"You also said that none of the gasses were very harmful," countered Luke.

"Yeah, but Luke, you're missing the point! Some things can go too far!" Though the miner's voice had started out even, it was slowly rising.

A sip from the cocktail gave Luke the chance to discretely evaluate his friend's stern frown and the contradicting lack of energy in his eyes. Luke raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "This doesn't sound like you, bro. Just last week you were trying to convince me to pull a prank on Chase. What made the sudden conscience?"

Owen pressed his mouth into a thin line while his gaze drifted around the restaurant. Luke slowly pressed one finger against the icy glass and drew a streak through the perspiration. "Kathy forced you into it, didn't she?"

His friend reluctantly smirked. "She's trying to get me to be more responsible."

"Really? The last time she tried that, it didn't go to well."

Owen shrugged. "Can't blame the girl for trying."

Luke laughed and brought the cocktail to his lips. "You know when you're in trouble when a girl tries to rein you in."

Now that the ruse was up—and all recent pranks apparently forgiven—Owen relaxed into his seat and gave the carpenter a familiar, impish look. "Speaking of hot girls, how are you going to ask Molly?"

"What do you mean? Ask her what?"

There was a long moment as he took in Luke's blank expression. "You're kidding me, right?" he said, completely dumbfounded.

"Uh, for once…no."

"Wait, if not Molly, then who? Definitely not Selena!"

Luke slammed his fist in frustration, and received several indignant stares in the process. "Dude, what are you even rambling about?!"

The miner swore and put his head in his hands. Through calloused fingers he muttered, "Please, please, please tell me you know what's coming up."

Luke straightened his shoulders as impatience made him snap, "Can you tell me what the hell is going on?!"

Owen slowly removed his hands to reveal a truly pained look. "Luke," he said, as if talking to a stubborn child (which, in some ways, he was), "what day is today?"

The carpenter blinked in surprise at the unexpected question. "Uh…Thursday."

"Good boy. Now what is today's date?"

"The fifth of summer..?" The end of his sentence sounded like a question, but Owen bypassed it.

"Right. Now what's tomorrow?"

"Friday…the sixth of summer…"

Owen's tone held barely controlled exasperation underneath the desperate calm. "And..?"

"The day I take out the trash..?"

"It's the day before the Firefly Festival!" he finally burst out, wildly shaking his hands as if to emphasize the point. "Which means: you have to hurry up and ask that girl out!"

Finally, it got through the boy's thickhead. His face grew pale. "Oh, Goddess, I forgot about that!"

"Please tell me you have some sort of game plan. I know from experience that girls don't like being asked out on dates last minute." While Luke was still trying to regain normal color in his face, Owen launched into a plan. "Look, we still have time to get you ready. She's still new here so she might not know about the festival yet. We're going to need red flowers—preferably roses—, chocolates, one huge, as—"

Owen's rant was interrupted when Luke raised a finger to shut him up.

"Wait, hold on…You told me not to get close to her—that she was my competition and all of that bull!"

Once again, the miner gave him a look that said he was missing the obvious. "And when have you ever followed my advice, Luke?"

Luke had to think long and hard before he answered. "Eh…the time you told me not to eat the yellow snow..?" Again, he received more indignant glances from the other customers—even Chase was leaning over the kitchen's counter; the dirty look he gave the two men made it clear that he would call the police without a second thought, given the chance.

"Goddess, I need some more of this…" Owen took a long swig from his cocktail before he spoke. "Luke—I can't believe I'm saying this—how do you feel about Molly?"

"She's okay, I guess." Luke shrugged nonchalantly, his heartbeat drumming in his ears.

"Liar…" The miner sighed impatiently.

Clenching his teeth, Luke snapped in a low voice so the others couldn't hear, "What do you expect me to say, Owen? That I like her even though I shouldn't? That I feel all jittery inside—as if little fireworks are bouncing around—whenever she rolls her eyes at me because I can tell she's trying not to laugh? Or that the hole in my chest-that's been there for eight years-has finally gone away when I'm with her? Is that what you want to hear, Owen?"

Once Luke was done, he was taken aback by what just flew out of his mouth; it was like a part of him that was hidden deep within had just climbed out. His breathing was heavy and a bone-tiredness settled in his body that made Luke just feel depleted inside—even his optimistic eyes were too drained to seek something cheerful. "What do you want from me, Owen?" he said with the same amount of weariness that he felt. "I may like her—a lot—but we can't just go out together. Whether we want it or not, we are rivals in this contest and I need that money for my family—I can't let them down. I promised Bo…"

Owen just looked at him in shock, not knowing how to respond after the sudden outburst. Never before had he witnessed Luke taking off the carefully composed and cheerful mask that guarded the troubles underneath. Now Owen silently watched as his friend just slouched in his chair—not even touching the drink—while the spirit inside seemed to fade away, revealing only a shell of the person he used to know. Finally, Owen pursed his lips and raised his hand. As speedy as ever, Kathy was at his side in an instant.

"Causing trouble again, sugarplums?" The waitress said with a smile, oblivious to the tense mood around the table. Owen gestured for her to lean in and she bent her head down. A hand hiding their faces, Owen whispered something urgently into Kathy's ear; she occasionally nodded as her expression turned solemn. Meanwhile, Luke didn't bother to try and listen in like he normally would, but instead he stared listlessly as a perspiration drop snaked its way down the cocktail glass.

Once Owen put his hand down, Kathy had a determined expression on her face—it almost reminded Luke of the protective look he would often see on Molly's features. The waitress put one hand on her hip and the other hand firmly on the table. Forcing eye contact, Kathy said, "Now you listen to me, Lucas Stephen Briar! Your mama would not want you to throw away your chance of a sweet, sweet girl like Molly for some idiotic competition—and neither would your dad or Bo. They want what's best for you, and you can't sacrifice all of your happiness for someone else—that isn't love."

A spark of light came back to Luke's eyes. "But Kathy—"

Kathy raised her hand. "No buts, young man! You can raise the money some other psychotic way that doesn't involve a sexist competition. Speaking of which," her sharp gaze turned to Owen. "It's been officially five days. Don't you owe something?" It wasn't a question.

Owen meekly took out his wallet and placed 50G on the table. Kathy patted him once on the head, much to Luke's amusement and Owen's dislike. "Good boy." Turning back to Luke she said, "If you were to just ask, everybody on this island will pitch in to help; you just need to swallow your stupid, manly pride for one second—even Chase and Gill would pitch in with some persuasion."

Luke was about to speak up, but was silenced once more with a hand and a You-don't-talk-until the-lady-is-finished look. "Now," she said in a stern tone. "The answer is simple. Do you like Molly?"

The carpenter (wisely) didn't hesitate to say, "Yes."

"And do you want to take her out to the Firefly Festival in two days?"

"Yes."

"Then get going, you good-for-nothing boy!" Kathy gestured impatiently to the door.

Luke's face brightened to its usual cheerfulness (despite the insult), and his heart felt light as he looked at Kathy's stubborn yet compassionate face. Winking, he said, "Thanks, Kathy! You too, Owen!"

Owen wrapped his arm around Kathy's slim waist. "My woman does it all."

Luke hastily stood up and slid the 50G back to Owen. "Don't give that to me—give it to Molly."

With that, Luke raced out the door. By then, the whole restaurant and its occupants had heard what was going on. Everyone except Chase and Selena (who were pouting together) raised their glasses and cheered the carpenter on. As Luke stepped into the breezy night's air, he took a deep breath. He had no idea how he would ask Molly to the festival, but he knew he would think of something; he had the bestest ideas ever—and the bestest friends, too.

..-HM-..

Back in the bar, Owen smiled affectionately at the blonde waitress. "I love you, you know that, right?"

"Me and my daddy." Kathy grinned and leaned in closer, their noses gently nuzzling.

With a lazy grin, he whispered in her ear, "Get me another drink?"

There was a loud smack and the miner was ushered out of the bar.

Reasons Why Luke Really, Really (dare I say?) Loves Molly: Infinite


	10. Day Six (Part One)

Day Sixth

A pure light that seemed to radiate from heaven itself was shining behind a woman. The beautiful maiden was wearing an elegant gown, and had long, silken tresses that were braided in a circlet down her back. Soft, black lashes framed a pair of eyes that were the color of the deep ocean and shone with timeless wisdom. Her flawless features were so stunning, yet the tired expression she wore was heart-wrenching.

The woman's full lips parted to speak, but only the ghosts of words could be heard. Even so, the little sound that was audible was like angels singing from above. Her delicate mouth shaped the words, "Mol…wa…wake…"

Even that small effort seemed like a struggle for the ethereal woman, and her body seemed to tire. Her snowy eyelids were fluttering shut, but she fought to keep them open. The maiden managed to say one last thing before the light started to dim and the image began to fade. "Follow…the…"

She was gone.

Molly woke with a start. Her hand automatically clutched the blanket that covered her, and she sat up from the bed. Sweaty locks clung to the back of her neck as she peered around; it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. The inside of her house was covered in shadow, and the window's curtains swooshed open to reveal a full moon. Gentle snoring came from beside her.

The moon's pale light shone on Finn, her sprite guardian. His small head was pressed to the pillow that lay beside her, while his butt was straight in the air. Drops of drool slowly fell from his mouth, covering the pillow in minute pools. Molly smiled endearingly and softly pulled the crisp covers over the snoozing sprite.

Trying not to wake Finn, she quietly got out of bed and slipped on her pair of cow slippers. The tiny bells from the cows' collars made a tinny noise when she stretched her arms and legs. Once she was done stretching, her mind went back to the newest dream—or was it a vision? They had appeared to her before, and she knew that they meant more than just coincidental dreams. She wasn't lying to Luke when she said that the Harvest Goddess needed her.

A smirk pulled the corners of her mouth as the memory flooded back. The incredulous look on his face was just so priceless. What am I going to do with that silly boy? Molly thought, stifling a laugh. Speaking of the carpenter, she wondered what he was doing now. Probably fast asleep…like she should be.

Softly sighing, she looked at the alarm clock sitting on the bedside table. The glaring numbers read only a few minutes past four a.m. That made it the sixth night in a row that she had gotten up early—you would think that the work on the farm and the work in the forest would make her sleep better but nooo. Instead, she had been sleeping even worse for the past several nights. The stress from so many things at once impended on her, making it impossible to sleep past six—much less four. Of course, a certain carpenter didn't have anything to do with it at all—nope, definitely not.

Knowing that it was useless to try and go back to bed (especially since the sun would come up soon, anyways) Molly resigned herself to getting dressed and making a quick breakfast. She pointedly ignored the threatening white envelopes that sat on the table as she walked to the kitchen. Looking at the stupid bills first thing in the morning was the last activity that Molly wanted to do.

In only a few minutes, Molly was dressed and ready for the day. She quickly swallowed the last bite of her buttered toast and headed towards the door. Turning back, she left Finn to continue sleeping on the bed. Just because she had woken up early, didn't mean that he had to.

Once Molly set foot outside, the sun had just creeped past the horizon, dying the hazy clouds orange and pink. Dewdrops hung from the leaves of the crops out in the field, giving off a fresh feeling in the early morning. Her nostrils flared at the homey aroma of the farm and the wild berries nearby. The air was brisk and she pulled her baggy jacket tighter around herself.

Molly abruptly stopped short, blinking in disbelief. It hadn't taken her long to notice the thin trail that began at her doorway and disappeared to the other side of the house. The path was made up from differently colored papers; each was shaped to resemble a bug with rounded wings. One end of each paper bug was bulged and colored a bright yellow. Okay…not weird at all…

Nonetheless, Molly bent down and picked up the first folded paper that was by her feet. She carefully turned it around and took note of the delicately twined antennas that sprouted from its head. The logical part of her mind figured there was going to be two main results if she followed the mysterious path: either something very, very good could happen, or she could be butchered by a crazy killer with a chainsaw. The logical part of her mind screamed to go inside the house…but Molly never said she was very logical. Suddenly, the memory of last night's dream came back to her in an instant. What did the goddess say..?

Follow something…

Follow what, though?

Taking a deep breath, Molly prayed that she was doing the right thing (and silently swearing her stupidity), as she carefully stepped around the pieces of papers and followed the trail. Only when she was halfway through did she think of going back to wake up Finn—at least then she would've had a witness if the chainsaw-killer was to meet her. However, by then she was able to see what awaited her at the end of the path.

"Luke?"

He had just about to place the last of the paper bugs when his heartbeat suddenly skipped at the sound of her voice. His back was turned to her, but he could already sense her shock.

Luke tried to hide his grimace when he straightened and awkwardly turned to look at her. Yup, she was surprised alright: her eyes were widened in shock, and her mouth was parted in an 'o' shape. Even so, he tried to stop himself from wanting to smirk at the farmer's wild bed-hair. Seriously? I thought that girls were always supposed to look perfect—day or night, he thought.

While Molly finally realized her mouth was still agape, Luke sheepishly waved the paper bug that was still in his hand. "Sooo…funny coincidence that we're both here…at your house…at four a.m.…yeah." He watched as Molly clamped her mouth shut, and could almost visualize the gears in her head moving as she rationalized the current event.

"What are you doing here?" Molly numbly said.

"Eh…" There wasn't really a good answer to that. "I was…just…have you heard of the Firefly Festival?" he blurted out. You're not sticking to the plan, Luke! A part of his mind screeched. Quick! Say something awesome, already—she's still looking at you as if you're an axe-murderer…and the axe strapped to your belt isn't helping your case, either, buddy.

Molly shook her head, partly to answer his question and partly to clear the rest of the stupor she was under.

Great, Owen was right. Now you have to explain it to her, stupid! "It's a festival…where all the villagers come to make lanterns." At Molly's still puzzled look, he hurried on. "It's meant to celebrate everyone's ancestors…and stuff."

"And is it tradition to come to a person's house, setting a trail of paper bugs, at four in the morning?"

Luke swallowed, fidgeting with the piece of paper in hand. "Not usually..."

Molly raised an eyebrow, alertness already coming back. "Then why did you…?"

Oh Goddess, why me? "Well…the other part of the festival is to bring a—" he choked over the words—"a d-d-date."

The carpenter winced and closed his eyes, waiting to be yelled at or slapped—or both. Instead, he was shocked to hear chuckling. At the sound, Luke cautiously cracked one eyelid open and peered at the girl. Molly didn't look about ready to hit/shout at the carpenter—instead her hand was covering her mouth as she tried to stifle laughter. There was a twinkle of mirth in the farmer's eyes as she bent down to pick up one of the paper bugs.

Taking this as a good sign, Luke relaxed his body and asked warily, "Sooo…you're not mad at me?"

A befuddled look appeared in Molly's features. "Mad? At what? You making a trail of paper insects?"

"They're fireflies, actually…I thought it had fit the theme well."

"Did you make these?" she asked curiously, twirling the piece of paper between her fingers. A pair of buttoned eyes was glued to the head of the bug.

Luke nodded, pride shining through. "Yup. Bo had to help me out-I think it's called origame...origami, I mean. It took me all night, too."

Molly look surprised and a smile took form. "Well, thanks. These seem pretty well-made."

"Eh…you're welcome." His hand awkwardly crept up to the back of his head to rearrange his prized bandana. "Sooo…"

"So," Molly smirked at his obvious nervousness, "what was that about a date?"

"Oh! It doesn't have to be a date, if you don't want it to be—it can just be a friendly outing or something—I mean, not that you have to go—it's just a stupid tradition that the—"

He was benevolently silenced when Molly chuckled. "Sounds lovely," she said with a grin, tucking back a stray hair behind her ear.

Luke blinked. "Really? Uh, I mean, of course it sounds lovely! It's me we're talking about!"

The girl rolled her eyes and said in a teasing tone, "So are you going to tell me when we actually meet, or am I supposed to wander around, being utterly clueless?"

"Oh, right!" he sputtered, feeling rather stupid (poor, stupid lad). "The festival starts tomorrow night at Flute Fields. It's next to the windmill, in case you didn't know."

She nodded. "I know where that is."

"Okay, great. So wanna meet there at seven, then?"

"Sounds perfect."

"Awesome…"

"Yup…"

The two stood there awkwardly for a moment, not quite knowing what to say. "So…" Molly began, gesturing back to the house. "I got to go, you know…"

"Yeah, me too…"

"Right…"

"Uh…"

"Sooo…"

Luke coughed. "See you in the forest later?"

"Absolutely."

With that unique conversation, Molly headed back to do her farm chores while Luke started to walk towards the carpentry. Neither of them knew that the other person was giddily laughing to themselves as they parted ways. Dang, I was pretty smooth! Luke thought proudly, a skip in his step. I could do this more often!

Once Molly was safely indoors, a huge laugh started from her stomach and bubbled its way to her mouth. Molly may be new to the island, but she had always known what the Firefly Festival was—she was just waiting for the right moment (or the right guy) to properly broach the subject.

"What's so funny?" Finn asked groggily from her bed.

"Nothing," she shook her head. Finn, noticing the impish smile, didn't believe the girl for a second.

"Uh huh," he hummed doubtfully.

"Don't you have work you should be doing?" Molly snapped.

"Don't you?"

The girl paused for a moment, and then headed back outside without a word. Once outside, she carefully picked up each and every paper firefly and placed them safely in her rucksack.

Meanwhile, Finn went back to sleep, a knowing grin frozen on his face. Oh, young love…he thought dreamily. Now time for my own lovely dreams…

Hours it took Luke to come up with his plan: That guy needs some serious help…


	11. Day Six (Part Two)

Day Sixth: Part 2

Once Molly had finished the farm chores, she met up with Luke at the forest's gate. At first the conversation between the two was awkward, considering what had happened earlier that morning, but they soon fell into a comfortable routine. Luke led her through the woods, eventually stopping at a new area and declaring it the 'bestest place around'. The two of them then quickly got to work while Finn patiently watched from the outer pocket of Molly's rucksack (unbeknownst to Luke, of course).

They had been working for several hours when an unexpected scream cut through the air. Luke's whistling instantly fell silent as Molly lowered her axe; even Finn was startled from his nap at the sudden sound.

"Please tell me it's not the Witch Princess again," Molly said desperately.

Luke's grip tightened on the axe's handle. A troubled expression clouded his features. "No, it's not the witch. But I do have a funny feeling of who it is…"

His suspicion was confirmed when a girl wearing a brightly colored dress came running towards them. Luke recognized her instantly. He hastily strapped the axe onto his belt and ran towards the girl, catching her in his arms.

Molly's footsteps were heard from behind as Luke took in the other girl's panicked expression. "Chloe, what's wrong? What are you doing here?"

"Luke, you have to come quick! C'mon, c'mon, already!" Chloe was basically jumping up and down in her panic, making her pigtails bounce. Luke placed his hands on her shoulders just to steady the girl. By now, Molly was right beside them and Finn was curiously peeking out of the rucksack's pocket.

Whenever Chloe's agitated, she slips into the habit of talking rapidly. Thus, making it difficult for others to keep up with what the girl was saying. "Bo-bo and I were playing in the forest—well, I was playing and he was trying to catch-up, but whatever—and he suddenly stopped. His cheeks were all flushed red so I asked him what was wrong, and guess what he said! He said that he wanted to take me to the Firefly Festival tomorrow as a couple, but I wasn't going to be won over that easily—Ramsey taught me better. So I said, 'If you want me as a date, then you gotta get me a bluebird's feather!' But not the actual Blue Feather 'cause that's for marriage and silly stuff. No, I just wanted another bird's feathers, so I pointed at a pretty little bluebird up, up, up in a pine tree. When he looked up, his face paled a lot but he nodded anyways. Then he started to climb and climb and climb, but then I think he got stuck way up high. Now that silly boy can't get down, and I need your guys' help!"

Chloe was out of breath from that long tirade and was breathing heavily. Molly and Luke shared a perplexed glance—neither had understood half of what she just said.

"Well?" Chloe put her hands on her hips and looked at the others expectantly. "Aren't you going to do something?"

Luke, who was more experienced with Chloe's rapid way of talking, asked, "Chloe, can you show us where Bo is?"

"Of course I can, Loony-Lukey." She snatched the carpenter's hand and proceeded to drag him away. Molly hesitantly followed behind.

Chloe's small feet made an ironic amount of noise as she determinedly stomped her way through the forest, Luke and company in tow. "Loony-Lukey?" Molly muttered in his ears.

"Owen taught it to her," he whispered back. "He's a terrible influence."

"As if you're any better." Molly stifled a chuckle as she repeated the name. "Looney-Lukey…I think I prefer that over honey-boy."

Without looking from back, Chloe shouted, "Get your own nickname, lady. Only I can call him loony." As if to prove her point, she tugged on Luke's hand harder so he stumbled slightly. "Mine."

Finn whispered into Molly's ears. "Geez, she's fiercer than you are..."

"I heard that, tiny fairy!" Chloe said, much to Luke's confusion.

The sprite quickly ducked deeper into the pocket, seriously wishing that children couldn't possess the ability to see him.

Right before Luke's arm was going to be amputated, Chloe stopped and let go of her iron grip. Pointing to a towering pine tree, she said, "See? Bo-bo is up there." They had to tilt their heads back in order to fully see the tree's pointed top.

About midway there was a sinewy branch that swayed more heavily than the other limbs around it. Once that branch was spotted, it was easy to pick out the reason why it dipped irregularly: attached to it was a small boy. Fear struck the carpenter when he recognized the familiar fair hair of his cousin. Bo's thin arms grasped the branch for dear life, as he pinched the wooden limb tightly between his knees. He wouldn't risk losing his grip on the branch by waving his hand to the friends underneath. Nope, two hands were better than one in this scenario.

Chloe looked up worriedly. Even from afar, the others could see the boy's terrified expression. "Guys, we need to help him!"

The carpenter's mind frantically searched for possible solutions. They were too deep in the forest to call for help—no one would hear them (except for the Witch Princess, but she would probably just be amused at the dilemma). No, they would have to save Bo themselves—before it was too late.

"Somebody could climb up and get him," Luke suggested.

"Yeah, but who?" When Molly was greeted by silence, she turned around to find the others looking at her expectantly.

"Oh-oh," Finn mumbled.

"Why are you all looking at me?" she demanded.

Chloe slyly said, "Well, I'm a pretty good climber, but I'm not strong enough to get both Bo and I down…"

"And what's your excuse?"

She looked to Luke. He seemed oddly attentive to the patterns he was drawing in the dirt with the tip of his boot. "Ehavaidehheights," he mumbled, head down.

"What did you say?"

"He's afraid of heights," Chloe said simply.

Luke's face turned red as he spurted out, "I just don't like them, okay?! They're scary…"

Molly looked at the carpenter in disbelief. "You're a carpenter who loves trees…yet you can't climb one?"

The scaredy-carpenter pointedly crossed his arms and turned around so his back faced her. "Hmph!"

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Okay, enough yapping and more climbing! Now get your butt up there, missy!" The girl put her hands on Molly's back, pushing her towards the tree. "Up, missy, up!"

"Yeesh! Alright, alright!" The farmer tightened the straps to her rucksack securely around her shoulders, and then gripped the first lower branches. Testing the stability, she cautiously put her foot on the limb and pressed down with her weight. Once Molly deemed it secure enough, she hoisted herself up and grabbed the next branch above her; the rough bark made impressions into the palms of her hands.

"Be careful!" Luke called from below, even though she was already a few feet off the ground.

Molly gritted her teeth. "You know, honey-boy, this isn't how you butter up a girl the day you ask her out."

Both Chloe and the sprite simultaneously exclaimed, "He asked you out?!" Finn then asked, "You didn't say yes, right? RIGHT?!"

At that, Molly kept silent. He would find out soon enough…

The journey was tedious and tiring. Molly's sore hands were blisteringly red and leaves whipped stinging lines against her face and limbs, yet she steadily trudged on. At times there were calls of encouragement from below that would lift her morale. (Bo would also be shouting reassurances, but he preferred to keep his eyes and mouth tightly shut for now…)

A bead of sweat trailed down from Molly's forehead as she hoisted herself one branch higher. Knowing better to look down, she kept her gaze focused on the gradually increasing shape of the boy above. She was more grateful than ever that she had loved to climb so much as a child.

About halfway through her destination, the first sound of fear escaped Bo's mouth. "I-I can't hold on much longer!"

His eyes were clamped tightly together—he couldn't bear to look at the ground that seemed so far away. A sickening feeling washed over him every time the branch dipped from underneath. What I do for love, Bo thought miserably, his limbs trembling.

A surge of adrenaline swept through Molly's blood at the boy's distress. "Hold on, Bo! Just a little bit longer!"

Bo could only muster a whimper in reply. From his secured seat, Finn looked up worriedly at the unsteady boy. Even though Molly's efforts were redoubled, he feared that they might not reach Bo fast enough. The sprite thought desperately of someway to help. There had to be a way to buy Molly some time. Maybe if Bo had a distraction, something to keep his hopes up until Molly arrived…

A sudden idea came to him. "Molly," he said.

"Kind of busy here, Finn," she grunted, gripping another branch.

"But Molly, I think I can help!"

"Do you have a ladder, by chance?"

"Nope, but I got something even better!" he stated proudly.

"And what's that?"

"ME!" Batting his oval-shaped wings, he flew up from the rucksack's pocket and sped away. From below, Molly shouted out a protest but Finn ignored it and continued to fly. In just a matter of seconds, he was above Molly by several feet.

It felt so good to really use his wings again—ever since he was Molly's guide, he hasn't had the chance to fly freely. Working out the kinks from underuse, Finn experimented with his flight pattern until it became familiar once again. The wind whooshed past him as he dodged branches and leaves, the world becoming a blur.

In less than half of the time it would've taken Molly, Finn reached Bo and landed neatly on the branch. The boy was unaware that a sprite was just inches away from his closed eyelids.

Now that Finn was up there, he wasn't quite sure of what to do next. Sprites don't exactly have large brains, you know… (Their heads are soooo tiny compared to humans.) Finn kept silent as he debated how to help the trapped boy and to give Molly some much needed time. Didn't that loud girl say something about a feather?

There was a small chirp from above. Finn looked up to see a brightly colored bird perching on the edge of a nest a few feet up. The bluebird spread its colorful wings, rustling its feathers, and then flew away into the skies.

A light-bulb lit up in Finn's mind. He said in what he hoped was a calming tone, "Uh, hi kiddo."

The new voice startled Bo and his eyes snapped open. Finn waved nervously while Bo's eyes resembled a pair of saucers. "Y-y-you're…"

"A sprite." Finn nodded. "And I'm here to grant you a wish. So what will it be, kiddo?"

The boy's body trembled as he tried to believe the miniature person floating in front of him. "I-I-I thought that only fairies could grant wishes…"

"Do I look like a Barbie doll with a glittering wand to you?" The sprite's helpful expression turned indignant.

"Well, no…"

"Exactly! Only girl sprites are called fairies; it's an insult to us manly sprites!" Finn proudly stuck out his scrawny chest.

Bo took in the sprite's pajama-like outfit and disproportioned, babyish body. He decided it was best not to point those things out, however. "R-Right..um, can you, I dunno, poof me to the ground, please? Gently…" he added.

Finn nervously looked down. Molly was still adamantly making her way to them but still had a ways to go. Thinking quickly, Finn gestured to himself and then to Bo. "Look, kiddo, do you seriously think a sprite my size could just teleport a person of your size to the ground? Even magic cannot cross some of the boundaries of physics."

Even though he desperately wanted to be on solid ground, Bo decided the sprite had a good point, regardless…"Well, what can you do then?"

"Glad you asked, good sir! Though my magic has its limitations, I am able to guess what you might desire. And I'm picking up a strong feeling that you're in need of a blue feather for a special lady, right?"

Miraculously, Bo's current dilemma was pushed to the back of his mind as he nodded enthusiastically. "Uh huh. We've known each other since we were little. I really want to take her to the Firefly Festival tomorrow, but she said she would only go with me if I brought her a feather," he admitted a bit shyly.

"Say no more, kiddo! Just sit tight and Detective Finn will be on the case!"

What Finn didn't tell the kid, however, was that he didn't even have magic in the first place—not that Bo needed to know that.

With a twirl for good-measures (all sprites needed to show off every once in a while), Finn flew up into the air once more as Bo watched eagerly. Letting his instincts go on autopilot, he looked back and assessed where his friends were. He could make out the distant figures of Luke and Chloe, their hands shading their eyes, as they concernedly watched the progress being made. They must've left at one point, because in Luke's hands was a thick, braided rope.

Molly, on the other hand, was now in hearing distance to Bo. She was shouting reassurances to him as she inched her way upwards. Her face was grimy from sweat and dirt but a determined look blazed in her eyes.

Finn turned around and focused on his own destination. In no time, he had reached the bluebird's circular nest that was made from sticks, vines, and pieces of plastic-garbage. Observing the current surroundings, he landed smoothly in the nest; the rough material scratched the bottom of his feet.

Normally Finn would never take the chance of going so close to a bird's home, but the circumstances were dire. Besides, he watched as the bird flew away himself, and the only other evidence of occupants was the cracked eggshells that were scattered throughout the nest and a handful of feathers.

Nonetheless, Finn took caution as he picked his way through the area, scanning the various feathers. Finally, the sprite settled on a singular, vibrant cerulean feather that had a clear spine down the middle and snowy tuffs sprouting out of its hollow shaft. The feather was at least an inch taller than the sprite himself.

Finn had to awkwardly pick up the feather by its shaft, trying not to dent any of the delicate barbs, as he zipped back to Bo. Thankfully, by then Molly had reached the boy. She was uncomfortably perched on a branch just above, so as to not make the branch that Bo was leaning on more unstable.

"There you are!" Molly exclaimed angrily as Finn neared. "Why in the world would you just go away like that?"

The sprite ignored his friend's furious expression and landed on the wooden limb in front of Bo. "Here you are." He carefully handed the feather to the boy. Bo unclasped his stiff grip on the bark and took the item in his hands; the gentleness—almost reverence—that he used as he handled the feather made it seem as if it was a prized treasure.

"Thank you," Bo whispered, smiling for the first time since he had gotten stuck in that stupid tree.

"You're welcome." Finn dipped his head humbly.

Molly thought that the event would have been much more heart-warming if she wasn't covered in grime—not to mention, sitting about fifty feet in a tree without any safety-restraints. (How could a twelve year-old boy get up there in the first place?) "Guys, if you don't mind me interrupting," she said sweetly, "let's get the hell out of here!"

The others didn't have to be told twice. "What do you need me to do?" Finn asked eagerly.

"Luke and Chloe got a rope to help us get down. Finn, if you can bring that rope up here, I could carry Bo while the others could pull us down, okay?"

"Gotcha."

His wings made a humming sound from the rapid speed as he dove below. In only moments, Finn made an abrupt stop and appeared in front of Luke and Chloe.

Luke's eyebrows were pinched with worry as he looked above, watching his friends. He was utterly oblivious to the sprite that was floating right in front of him. Chloe, however, was not. "Here, take this!" She yanked the end of the rope out of Luke's hands and tossed it to the sprite.

"Hey, what did you do that for?" Luke yelled, unable to see as Finn grabbed the rope (man, was it heavy) and hefted it over his shoulder. Wings fluttering with exertion, he flew back to the tree.

"What the—why is the rope flying?!" The carpenter looked incredulously at the 'levitating' rope. To his eyes, the braided cord was magically floating towards the tree all by itself. Neither Finn nor Chloe decided to answer their frantic friend, so Luke just watched in silent amazement.

Finn's arms were burning from carrying the dead weight, and it was a relief to dump it in Molly's waiting hands. "Great, now I can do the rest. Bo, climb onto my back," she ordered.

"What?" The young boy blinked in disbelief.

"If you want to get out of here, then just do it!"

The boy hesitated but then slowly unwounded himself from the branch. In a moment, he was tentatively (and awkwardly) being carried piggy-back style. Bo's thin arms loosely wrapped around Molly's neck as his knees gently clutched her waist. "Now for the rope," Molly grunted, suddenly grateful that she had dumped her rucksack to the ground after Finn abandoned it. It took several more tedious minutes for Molly to tie the rope around her and Bo in a surprisingly sturdy make-shift harness.

Cupping her mouth with her hands, she yelled down to Luke and Chloe, "Pull us down!"

With Luke's and Chloe's help, they were able to lower Molly and Bo safely (for the most part) back to solid earth; Finn loyally followed behind. Once her feet touched the ground, Molly collapsed in exhaustion; even so, the cool dirt pressing against her cheeks and scratches was gladly welcomed. But…the heavy lump that still rested on her back was not. "You can get off now, Bo," she grunted.

"Oh, right!" Bo's face flushed as he scrambled off the girl. However, he was quickly bombarded by another female.

"Bo-bo, are you alright? I'm soooo sorry!" Chloe practically wailed, hugging Bo in a death grip.

"I'm fine," Bo gasped, trying to free himself. Once Chloe pulled back with a tear-stained face (and when Bo was able to breathe again), he sheepishly revealed the blue feather that was still held gently in between his fingers. "Here, it's for you."

Chloe's eyes widened as she took the feather. "It's so beautiful, Bo-bo!"

"Glad you like—" he was caught in another rib-breaking hug before he could finish.

Before he could protest, Chloe pulled back and grabbed his hand. "C'mon, Bo-bo, let's go pick out a new outfit for the festival! We need dresses, and lace, and ribbons…" She continued to trail off a list of what was needed.

Despite the life-threatening events (one being stuck in a tree, the other being crushed by a very strong eleven year-old), Bo was dragged away with a blissfully dazed look on his face. In moments, the two were gone, which left only Luke, Molly, and Finn.

Luke immediately rushed to Molly where she was still lying on the ground, stomach-up. "Goddess, Molly are you okay?"

The sprite smirked as he pulled back, figuring he should let the lovebirds have their alone time. By Goddess, he knew that they needed it.

Molly wearily peeled back her tired eyelids to look up. The worried carpenter stood above her, blotting out the sun and casting her face in shadow. "Other than feeling that my whole body is turning to goo, I'm doing great. How about you?"

Luke gave a breathless laugh as he sat beside the farmer; one hand supported him on the ground, while the other rested on his bent leg. "Worried sick out of my mind, that's how I'm doing. You are not allowed to do something like that again, do you hear me Molls?"

"Why can you be the only one who gets in trouble?" Molly winced when she positioned her arm underneath her head. The fresh grass that tickled the back of her neck felt amazing.

The carpenter anxiously bit his bottom lip. "Ever since you came around, I think our places have been reversed."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you're the one who's been doing the stupid stuff, while I need to be the hero."

The farmer raised an eyebrow indignantly. "If I remember correctly—and I have a pretty darn, good memory—it was me who was saving your cousin, while you were cowering from heights."

"Details."

Molly rolled her eyes and blew an amber strand of hair out of her face. Luke had the sudden urge to sweep the lock behind her ear himself. Swallowing the desire down, he got up from the ground and lowered his hands to her. "Come on," he said. "I'll buy you a drink."

Squeezing her eyelids shut, the farmer groaned in protest and turned on her side. "Too tired…go away…"

There was a sudden pressure under her legs and against her back. Abruptly, her body was lifted and she found herself no longer against steady ground. Eyes snapping open, she looked up to see the carpenter grinning; the warm fabric of his shirt was soft against her skin. "Luke! P-p-put me down right now!"

The carpenter stubbornly shook his head as he arranged the girl more comfortably in his arms. "No way. You're coming with me."

"This is so unfair!" Molly cried, trying to struggle out of the grip but Luke's arms didn't budge.

"Who said anything about fair, Molls?" There was a glint of humor in his eyes as he began to walk. "Besides, you said that I wasn't treating you as a date should be treated, so now I am."

"So kidnapping me is the solution?"

"Duh."

Any other time Molly would have put up more of a fight, but her body was already so drained—however, thoughts of slapping that smug smirk off his face was still being considered. Sighing, she crossed her arms and resigned herself to pouting. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Yup. Now who's the damsel in the distress?" he asked cheerfully.

"Still you."

Luke decided to ignore that comment as he carried her through the woods. Neither of them realized that they were being watching by a very amused sprite.

Pieces of Lumber Left: 415

Number of outfits Chloe will buy: Anything for Ramsey's and Owen's little angel!


	12. Day 7

Day 7 (Firefly Festival)

"Gosh darn it! Where are those ribbons! You know, the ones with those yellow polka dots—oh, or should we try the blue ones instead? Or maybe not… We don't want you to look too young; otherwise that boy won't take you seriously…actually, on second thought that seems like a good idea."

Finn bit his lip in deep concentration. His head whipped between the two small ribbons that he held. Then from his peripheral vision, he glimpsed the muddy boots that Molly was wearing and his eyes seemed to bulge from their sockets.

"Molly! What the heck happened to your shoes?! Those are not the shoes we've agreed on! Remember, we decided to go with the black ones because they will make you look all sophisticated."

Molly hummed a nonchalant reply, her gaze directed at the window as the sun began to retire for the day. However, Finn didn't notice the inattentive answer and launched into worry about another matter of clothing. Zipping to the closet, he opened the door and pulled various dresses from their hangers. The only thing that could be seen was the numerous articles of clothing that were tossed out of the way, followed by the muttered 'no's and 'nah, that won't do'.

Finally the sprite emerged from the closet and revealed his findings with a proud smile. In his right hand was a modest white dress that had scalloped sleeves, while in the other hand was a spaghetti-strapped summer dress that went to the knees.

"I found these two dresses at the very top shelf," he said with a flourish, "They were taped up in a box that was labeled "GARBAGE' but I don't know why you haven't worn them, Molly. They're absolutely adorable!" The sprite spun around in a giddy circle, the dresses twirling with him, obviously having more fun about the festival than the actual person who was attending it.

He was answered by another mumble, but he ignored it and launched back into his rant. "Oh, I can't decide; this white one with the cute little ruffles, or the summery orange one? Now the white one could make you look cute and sweet, but the orange one would really bring out the color in your eyes. What do you think, Molly? Molly? Earth to Molly...? MOLLY WAKE UP!"

The farmer was jerked out of her daydream and was faced with the sprite's thrilled expression. One glance at the dresses and she knew she was in trouble. "No."

The sprite's spirit visibly dampened. "But Molly, these would look so adorable on you!"

Molly cringed away as the sprite held the dresses up eagerly. "What's wrong with just a pair of shorts? I'll even put on a clean top if that helps."

Finn's eyes instantly narrowed and he frowned. "No girl of mine is going to go on date wearing hobo clothing!"

"I don't look like a hobo!" she said defensively, but her protest fell on deaf ears.

"Either you go to that closet and pick out a dress in the next five minutes, or I'm forcing one on you—and you know how much our styles differ," he said with a steely glint. Usually Molly wouldn't be afraid of an eight-inch sprite, but a sudden image of her wearing a "Little Bo-Peep' dress deterred any protests.

Molly grumbled something about tossing sprites into rivers as she reluctantly trudged to her closet. Finn was happily following after her, singing a children's rhyme under his breath. She had to push her usual outfit of shorts and T-shirts to the side, in order to reach the dresses that were clumped together in the back of the closet. The sprite excitedly dove in and pulled out a sleeveless, black dress that was low-cut in the front. "How 'bout this?" he asked, hoisting it into view.

"I thought I burned that," Molly muttered, half to herself.

"I take that as a no?"

"Correct."

They spent the next five minutes of sorting through the very limited amount of formal attire; a large pile of tossed-away clothes was steadily growing behind them. Finally, when Molly thought she would have to go in her usual outfit (oh, bummer), her hand touched something silky on the floor of the closet. Pulling it out, she held the fabric in front of her and the cloth elegantly unfolded.

Finn was at her side in an instant. His eyes grew wide and a slow whistle sounded from his pursed lips. "That's the one?" he guessed.

"That's the one," she confirmed. Her fingers tenderly stroked the smooth fabric as a smile lit up her face for the first time that night.

With effort, Finn turned his gaze away from the chosen outfit and looked at Molly with a sly smirk. Seeming to appear out of nowhere, he held up a glossy, golden tube. "Now time for the make-up."

Luke's calloused fingers fidgeted with his tie (it had taken Dale twenty minutes to do). The breeze from the windmill nearby caused his combed hair to brush against the back of his neck. He scanned the hill again and again for a familiar brunette. Lifting his arms slightly, Luke wondered why he was so bloody warm—must be the several layers of clothes.

Owen stood next to him with his hands stuffed in his pockets. The miner was wearing an outfit he had bought just yesterday morning: a black jacket thrown over an ironed white shirt, with matching slacks. An undone tie hung loosely from his dense neck. Sensing his friend's unease, he slapped Luke's back reassuringly. "Don't worry Lukey. Against her better judgment, she's hooked on you."

Luke looked at him with a side-long glance. "Gee, thanks Owen, that's sure to make me feel better."

"Any time, bro."

There was a quiet moment as the friends' gazes wandered over the other people at Flute Fields. Walking hand in hand by the river was Jin and Anissa. The girl's characteristically sweet smile brightened even further as the two talked; even Jin had a slight twinkle in his eyes. However, the couple didn't know that Taylor was hiding in some nearby bushes, camera in hand.

Then looking over the bridge together was Renee and Toby. Renee was wearing a simple black dress that gave off a surprisingly elegant yet practical appearance. Toby, on the other hand, had only traded in his usually baggy pants with brown shorts. Not that Renee seemed to mind the minuscule transformation; the couple was freely laughing together as they watched the fish pass underneath the bridge.

The only other young couple that Luke and Owen could see was Phoebe and Calvin. They were standing near a more secluded area by the forest's edge, and neither seemed particularly dressed up for the evening's occasion. Even so, their heads were tilted to each other as they passionately talked about the moonstones that were being used for the event.

There were a few other pairings that strolled around the area, but one particular couple captured Luke's attention. Bent over the rushing river, was Chloe and Bo. Chloe was wearing a knee-length dress that had a fine, red ribbon tied at the waist. Underneath the ribbon, there were floral-printed layers that filled out to make a sweet outfit. Two matching bows held Chloe's pigtails at the back of her head. A huge smile was on her face as she pointed things out to Bo. The boy was wearing formal slacks that he had bought last week (with a two months' worth of allowance), and a pressed shirt that was neatly tucked in. Around his neck was a messily put-together tie. (After spending so much time on Luke's tie, Dale eventually called it quits and snapped that Bo could figure it out himself). He seemed immensely happy as Chloe dragged him around the whole area, running from place to place.

A long, appreciative whistle snapped Luke out of his observations. "Look at those hot gals," Owen said, his voice heavy with admiration. The carpenter turned his gaze forward and instantly spotted two young women walking arm-in-arm together. Eyes widening, Luke swallowed as his attention moved past the blonde woman and to the brunette.

Molly's hair was gently curled at the ends, barely brushing her shoulders. The usual grime on her face that Luke had grown accustomed to was washed away to reveal sun-kissed skin. She wore a simple silver necklace that highlighted her delicate bone-structure. As if withholding a secret, her vibrant eyes danced with mirth; only a hint of make-up was used to make her eyes shine and her lashes long. Even so, Luke was stunned that the tomboy, farm-girl even knew what make-up was.

However, the thing that shocked him the most was what she was wearing. A silvery gown reflected off the night's moonbeams, shimmering as if it was a fallen star. The square-cut top was laced with floral designs, and the same design was woven on the sleeves that touched her upper-arms. Underneath the bodice was a wide sash that defined her slim waist. The sash connected to a loose ribbon that was tied to the front. The dress's skirt was smoothly shaped as it spooled in gentle waves, grazing the ground. Eyes filled with envy turned to her, but Molly didn't seem to notice.

The daring, young woman Luke had befriended had transformed into an ethereal being in one night. But it was not the dress, not the make-up, and not the jewelry that made his heart thud. It was the whimsical woman underneath—the one who had every comeback to his jokes, the one who had an endearing smile that made her nose crinkle, the one who had a laugh that was contagious and free, and the one who actually understood everything about him—that made the carpenter doubt his own eyes.

"Goddess, are we lucky men." Owen grinned. While his gaze was solely on Kathy, Luke's gaze was for Molly and Molly alone.

"Yeah…" Luke mumbled, dumbstruck.

Both girls smiled as they reached their dates. "What are you looking at, honey-boy?" Molly said with a smirk.

"I think he's looking at you, sweetie," Kathy teased, arm proudly linked with the other girl. Her blonde hair was tied into a ponytail that draped over her shoulder. The dress she had chosen for the occasion was sleeveless, and its top was shaped into a heart. A ruffled skirt skimmed just below her mid-thigh and, of course, her favorite cowgirl boots went up to her upper calf.

Owen's eyes raked up his girlfriend's long legs. "Well, I know that I'm looking at you."

Kathy gave an unladylike snort and removed her hand from Molly's, grasping Owen's outstretched arm instead. "You seem awfully flirty tonight," she observed. "Why don't we get out of here for a bit?" Kathy had to stretch on the tips of her toes to murmur something in Owen's ear—from the look on his face, you could tell the miner was intrigued.

Owen pulled back suddenly and scooped the waitress into his burly arms. "What are we waiting for, babe?" his voice was husky. "Let's get going!"

Kathy giggled as her feet hung freely in the air. "Sorry for leaving so early, dumplings!" she called to the other two. By then, Molly's and Luke's cheeks were both deeply flushed as they awkwardly stood by during their friends' interactions.

Owen was about to race away, Kathy in his arms, when he abruptly stopped. Turning back, he clumsily took something from his pocket and threw it to Molly; she easily caught it between her hands. "That's for you!" he shouted loudly while Kathy flirtatiously twirled a long, fair lock of hair between her fingers. With that, the couple was gone in seconds—nobody wanted to know where.

"Well…that was awkward," Luke stated plainly. "So what's in the bag?"

Molly held the bag upside down and shook it, letting the contents drop into her open hands. A jumble of coins glinted in the dim lighting. "Let me guess," she said drily, "50G?"

"More than likely."

Molly softly chuckled. "At least you guys pay your debts."

"Sure…" Luke muttered uncertainly, pushing back the image of the mound of gold he still owed various people. "Anyways, thanks for coming."

"Of course. This is my first Firefly Festival after all." She let the coins fall back into the bag.

Luke grinned and raised his arm in an exaggerated gentlemanly fashion. "Then by all means, Ms. Molly, allow me to escort you to your first real Festival of the Fireflies."

The farmer looked bemused but rested her hand lightly on his arm anyways. "After you."

Earning several curious looks in the process, he proudly escorted her to the river that was near the windmill. As soon as they passed an arch that held hanging colored papers, they were greeted by a path of lanterns that were made into the shape of lotus flowers. From each center of the lanterns a low, hazy light was emitted that gave the area a dreamy quality.

"What are those?" Molly wondered in awe.

Luke glanced at her, smiling at the way her eyes widened as she tried to take in every small detail and commit it to memory.

"Those are the lanterns," he explained. "Before we would just put light-bulbs inside, but then the Witch Princess wouldn't stop nagging about how we were destroying the atmosphere with our 'human pollution'." Luke rolled his eyes at the memory but then his voice became proud. "So a few years back, Phoebe had found a way to put Moonstones inside flowers to make the lanterns instead. It was an attempt to make things more eco-friendly—and to shut up the witch. Besides those two pluses, these lanterns also cause a much better affect. Phoebe's pretty smart that way."

"You've known Phoebe for a long time, I take it?" Molly said the words slowly, turning her gaze away indifferently.

The carpenter became confused at the odd expression on Molly's face. "Yeah, I guess so. We've basically grown up together—that and she's always in the Garmon Mine District."

Molly nodded casually, her eyes straight ahead now. "Ah."

"What made you ask?"

The girl just shook her head. "No reason." Molly was about to remove her hand from where it rested on Luke's arm, but before she could, he had already looped his fingers around hers.

"Hey, are you jealous?" he asked, an impish smile on his face.

"Of course not!" she protested, indignant.

Luke raised a doubtful eyebrow. "Uh huh. I told you there would be a cat-fight over me."

"I don't recall you saying that." Molly frowned but didn't remove her hand from his. "So are you going to tell me what we're doing here or not?"

"Ah, right." The carpenter decided to let the matter drop (for the moment) and focused on the real reason of the festival.

To the right of them was a table that was carefully stacked with glowing lanterns. Each one gave off a pleasant lavender scent. Luke took two of the flowers and passed one to Molly. The light casted a faint shimmer over each of their faces, causing an eerie appearance. "The Firefly Festival is mainly about remembering our ancestors," he informed. "It's sort of like when you cast paper boats into a river, but instead we're doing it with lanterns."

As if to prove his point, several other people from higher up on the river bank lowered their flowers to the water. The current instantly took their offerings and the lanterns bobbed gently as the passed Luke and Molly. Whispers of prayers could be heard from the other villagers, and then they departed to enjoy the rest of the evening.

"It seems like a wonderful tradition." Molly's voice lowered to a whisper in reverence for the sacred event. The cool water skimmed the back of their hands as together they lowered their lanterns to the stream. Their offerings were swiftly swept out of their hands and the water made a soft tinkling sound, as if thanking them for their gifts.

Wanting the precious moment to linger awhile longer, the two lowered themselves to the ground as they watched the glowing flowers travel the current. The lanterns soon diminished from sight, but their lights could still be seen from afar, appearing almost like fireflies in the distance.

Molly's legs were arranged to the side while the sleek dress was draped over the ground around her. The carpenter sat close by, listening to the peaceful sound of crickets chirping.

The enchanted, summer moment seemed so perfect and Luke did not want it to end quite yet. He said the first thing that came to mind. "Whenever Bo and I went to this festival as a kid, my dad would always look sad…" Even though he knew that Molly had turned to look at him, he kept his gaze pointed straight ahead at the river. "I think he was thinking about my mom, but I didn't really understand at the time. At that point, everything didn't seem real to me…it all just became a bit of a blur. But Bo needed me then, so I eventually forced myself to get back together and look at the bright side of things…if just to make Bo feel better."

Molly bit her lip, looking down, as a tense silence filled the air in between them. Glancing from the corner of her eyes, she noticed the hard line that transformed Luke's usually playful smile. Yet, despite it all, his eyes still twinkled with mirth, as if he was still looking for the silver lining in everything. There was a strange feeling that bubbled in her chest right then; a protectiveness to lighten the young man's burden. However, it was more to it than that; a comfort that seemed to ease the ache in her chest that she had always ignored, and replace it with this odd, fuzzy, warm feeling instead.

She was snapped out of her ponderings when Luke asked in a strange monotone voice, "You've never said why you've entered this contest in the first place."

The warm feeling instantly turned to unyielding lead. She had to bite her tongue from automatically spilling out the lies she would normally tell. Instead, Molly didn't answer as she debated what to say. Oh, she wanted to tell him everything, but could she really do it? She's kept it a secret for so long…yet he's trusted so much with her.

Just when Luke thought she was never going to speak, the words seemed to tumble out.

"After my parents died, I couldn't pay the mortgage for the house. Eventually I was forced to sell it." Once the flood of words began, Molly couldn't seem to stop them from spilling out for the very first time. "With the new money, I decided to move somewhere else…some place where I could just forget my past and start over. That's why I moved to Castanet and bought a farm—only to be swamped with mortgage again. I'm out every day at the farm, but it takes a while for the land to be restored after so long of disuse. But I just don't have that time. If I don't win that contest and win the money…" The words felt like acid in her mouth. "Then I'll have to sell the farm and do everything all over again. Be alone again…"

During her speech, Molly hadn't noticed that tears were spilling down her cheeks until a finger lightly caught a drop of the moisture. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, head down. "I don't know what came over me."

The next moment, strong arms were suddenly around the girl's petite figure. Molly instinctively became rigid as her back was pressed against something warm. However, her body relaxed as a low voice murmured, 'It's okay, it's okay'. The comforting murmuring continued for a long time, and soon Molly let the hot, burning tears slip freely from her face as her body shook uncontrollably. It was the first time she had let anyone see her cry after so long…and it felt good to let it all out again.

As if in response to the sudden intimacy between the two, the air was suddenly lit up by soft, yellow lights that floated around. "Wow," Luke whispered against the girl's hair. "Fireflies…" The insects' glow silently faded in and out, casting a bright reflection on the shimmering river.

"And just for us," Molly murmured, the spasms through her body lessening until the only sign of grief left was the dried tears on her cheeks.

"And just for us," Luke repeated softly, fingers absentmindedly weaving through the brunette's strands. "When I was younger, I thought that they were really souls."

The farmer smiled at the carpenter's childish idea. Grinning, she said, "I thought so too when I was little. It was as if my ancestors were watching over me."

Luke nodded, his chin rubbing against the top of her head. "If the ancestors for every resident in town were to come back, it would be like a reunion. It must be exciting," he mused wistfully, thoughts turning to his own loss...and now to Molly's, as well. "I hope they're having fun."

"I'm sure they are," Molly whispered quietly, leaning her head back into his secure chest. There was something that made Molly feel so at home as Luke wrapped his arms around her, holding her gently. It didn't make her parent's death disappear—nothing would— but it helped her to remember the happier times rather than the sad ones. It felt like an invisible weight—one that neither of them knew they carried—was lifted. Both of them felt as if they didn't have to be completely alone...not anymore.

The two didn't know how long they had stayed like that, in each other's warm embrace, but the trail of lanterns eventually winked out and traces of the other villagers were long gone. Eventually only the moon, stars, and fireflies lit up the night as Molly and Luke were the only ones left. At one point, Luke had murmured something in Molly's ear. She looked at him with a perplexed expression, but nodded anyways.

"By the way," Molly mumbled sleepily, a little while later. Her face was pressed against the soft fabric of Luke's shirt. The smell of fresh linen tickled her nose, but another deep breath revealed the musky scent of the forest that always seemed to cling to Luke. "Why do you always have a band-aid on your nose?"

A soft chuckle vibrated through his chest. "That's a weird question to ask."

"But I still want to know… Whatever cut that you got would be healed by now, so I don't see why the band-aid would still be on—unless you're trying to hide a nasty zit that won't go away." A smile shaped her lips as her eyes began to close.

Luke rolled his eyes. "My skin has always been zit-free, thank you. If you really want to know, the band-aid is covering a scar."

Molly's eyes snapped open. "How did you get that?"

"It's not as dramatic as it sounds, I promise you. A few years ago, Bo was trying to cut up some carrots with a knife—making a mess out of it, too—so I showed him how to do it correctly. Then, like my usual dumb self—" Molly snorted at that,"—I was showing off and was trying to twirl the knife between my fingers, when it slipped and fell. After that, I had a new gash on my nose called Freddie. Nobody else was hurt though."

"Freddie, huh?"

"Yup, Freddie is a very dear friend that is now with me through thick and thin."

Molly laughed, rising herself up a little so she could look at him in the eyes. Her features instantly became enthusiastic as she asked, "Can I see?"

"See what?" he asked, wary.

"Your scar. Can I see?"

"Why the heck do you wanna look at that?" Luke's tone became a mixture of amused and exasperated. However, his resolved quickly crumbled to dust when Molly looked up at him with wide, shining amber eyes and a mouth pulled into a pout.

"Pretty puh-lease?"

He sighed. "Manipulator…"

The farmer laughed and none too gently peeled the bandage back, making the covered spot sting. It revealed a dark, hard slash on the bridge of Luke's nose. Molly carefully traced her fingers against the dip, her eyebrows pinched during the examination. Meanwhile, Luke had direct access to observe the farmer's features and the faint freckles that spotted her cheeks. Also, he was all too conscious of how close the two were…and how they were face-to-face. As Molly intently studied the scar, he was intently studying the curve of her lips that were faintly shimmery with a light layer of gloss.

His heartbeat thudded and a sudden tune of 'Kiss the Girl' played in his mind. The air around him suddenly grew hot and uncomfortable, yet Molly seemed oblivious to the effects she was unconsciously causing. Also, the image of a mermaid in a shell-bra wasn't helping Luke's concentration much, either.

The sudden urge to press his lips against hers flooded through his body as the song became louder and louder in his ears. It was the perfect moment, wasn't it? The fireflies still lazily glimmered in the air, the water was mysterious and shone in the moonlight, and the bestest girl was only inches away from him.

Molly seemed to finally sense this too, and her eyes flickered up to his—oh, how he loved her eyes. Slowly, carefully, Luke's hand rose to cup the back of her neck, silky tresses pressed against his firm grasp. The spicy aroma of herbs filled his senses as he inched closer. Molly's gaze anxiously darted across his face, first widening to shock and then slowly closing shut as Luke gradually leaned in and…

And something suddenly took hold of Luke's feet, and he collapsed to the ground. Molly's eyes flew open and she saw Luke being dragged off by two mysterious figures—one big and bulky, the other small and thin. Each person had taken hold of one of the carpenter's legs, and a surprised Luke clawed at the dirt.

"This is what you get for pranking us!" The larger figure bellowed.

"H-h-he's heavy!" A familiar voice gasped.

"Dudes!" Luke growled. "Not faaaaaair!"

Owen and Bo weren't listening to him, however, and with their combined strength (okay, mostly Owen's), they were able to drag the carpenter away, leaving Molly to stare in disbelief.

"Sorry, Molly!" The miner called in between the carpenter's protests. "Hope we don't mind if we borrow the baby for a bit!"

"Just bring him home by ten, okay?" she called back, the disbelief fading away to be replaced by amusement.

Bo whimpered from Luke's thrashing. "Okay…"

The three boys were quickly out of sight, but the angry yells of Luke could still be heard from all around. And there goes my prince charming, Molly chuckled to herself as she stood up and began to walk home. What an interesting night…

Pieces of Lumber Left: 307

The times that Luke would wish that he could repeat the night over and over again: Forever and always.


	13. Day Eight

Day Eight

Part 1

Luke was awake the instant a crack of sunlight came through the window. With the gracefulness of a cat, he jumped out of bed. The carpenter's feet made a low thump as they touched the floorboards. Across from him came the soft snores of Bo, who was habitually unaffected by the morning's light.

Luke crouched down and reached his hand underneath the bed. Almost instantly his fingers touched something large and round. He pulled out the plain, chipped mug that he had hidden the night before. The putrid smell that came from within the cup made him cringe. Holding the mug farther away, the carpenter rose from his crouched position.

With just a few steps, he was across the room and standing over where his roommate was obliviously sleeping, unaware of the danger that would soon take place. The fluids in the mug made an unappealing sloshing sound as Luke inched closer to his cousin's bed. He couldn't help but think that Bo should know better by know. A whisper of guilt crossed his mind as he looked down at his cousin's innocent, sleeping face—did Bo really deserve this treatment every morning?

However, the hesitance was swiftly removed when Luke remembered the saying, "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." Following that theory, then wasn't it Bo's fault—not Luke's—that the boy had never learned from his mistakes? Also, the reminder of last night's events that Bo and Owen had pulled further hardened his resolve.

As he slept, Bo's mouth was partially opened to a small slit. Luke carefully slipped his hand underneath Bo's slim neck. Raising his roommate's head slightly, he pressed the mug to the boy's parted lips.

The instant the liquid made contact, Bo's eyes flew open and he immediately shot up from the bed. He shoved Luke away as he spat out the drink…but it was too late. The thick, slimy fluid had already slid down Bo's throat, leaving a revolting taste in his mouth.

The twelve year-old spat and wiped his mouth against the side of his arm. "What was that?"

"Do you really want to know?" the carpenter asked, wisely taking a step back. Bo's face paled and he wasn't given the chance to reply before Luke answered, "Llama's spit."

At that, the boy's face turned a nauseous green. He threw the covers aside, ran past the chuckling carpenter, and made a beeline to the bathroom. Almost immediately there were sounds of retching, which were then followed by the noise of running water and the buzz of a toothbrush.

Meanwhile, Luke headed to the kitchen. Dale, who was still in the middle of cooking pancakes, raised a curious eyebrow as he watched his son go to the sink and pour some mysterious, foamy liquid down the drain. The man was about to ask what his son was doing, but then thought better of it and returned to his sizzling stovetop, shaking his head.

Part 2

"No, Luke, I do not think that a pancake is like a muffin top that's squashed," Molly said in a wearying tone as she swung her axe. The tool landed a hit on the targeted forest tree with approving force and accuracy; those lessons were paying off. She could now handle the axe for longer periods of time, and it was easier for her to keep up with Luke.

"C'mon, just think about it," he insisted, working beside her. "If you cut off the top of a muffin and flatten it, then it would be exactly like a pancake!"

"But a pancake and a muffin are two completely different things."

"No, they're not! The only difference is that one is awesome while the other is awesomer! Anybody who likes them should know that."

"It's a good thing that I don't like pancakes then." Molly lowered her axe to swipe at beads of sweat that had gathered by her forehead. The summer's heat had finally kicked in at full force, and the temperature had become almost sweltering. She was instantly grateful that they were working under the shade of the forest, rather than out in the open where it would be easy to get sun-burned.

"What?" The carpenter's swing faltered and he turned to her with an utterly astonished expression. "How do you not like pancakes? What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing is wrong with me," Molly said defensively. "I just don't like pancakes—they're so…bland."

"They're not bland!" Luke protested, responding as if she had just called his bandana stupid. "That's why you have syrup, butter, honey, fruit, chocolate, peanut butter, mayonnaise, ketchup, cucumbers…

Defending the honor of the ultimate meal of breakfast instantly took the highest priority in Luke's mind, and he soon forgot about the task of chopping lumber. As he continued to list condiments for pancakes, Molly eventually tuned out the distracting tirade and focused solely on her own work.

Each time her axe connected to the tree she was working on, a flurry of leaves would fall to the ground, sending up a comforting scent that she had grown used to. In fact, Molly had grown used to most everything in the woods: the towering trees, the ever-present song of the birds and bugs, and the nonstop chatter of Luke as they worked together. It was strange how in just a few days, the forest had become almost like a second home to Molly—a place where she could go to find peace…and a friend.

But last night's actions didn't exactly scream out 'friend'. Her cheeks felt hot at the memory; at the image of her and Luke being so close, never breaking eye-contact. Then they both leaned in and…well, Molly had a good idea of what would've happened if they hadn't been interrupted. In some ways she was grateful for what had occurred; in hindsight things were moving just so fast. Yet, in that small amount of time, a line had been crossed between the two, something more than just mutual understanding. She knew that type of connection—no matter the hastiness—wouldn't be easy to step back from.

At the back of her mind, though, she wondered what will happen once the contest is over. No matter who wins the competition, tensions between the farmer and the carpenter would undoubtedly rise; only one can win the prize and keep their home. That sort of tight spot would inevitably leave a wedge between two people. Would Luke still want her company and friendship once everything is finished? Or would all that time—those precious moments that made Molly believe that something more than friendship might be budding—just disappear as if it had never happen? Would Molly even be capable to pretend that nothing had happened between them—especially after last night?

With a shake of her head, Molly mentally shoved those concerns into a room and threw away the key. She could worry about the future later. One look at the carpenter and a tickling sensation filled her stomach. Right then, Molly decided that she would only focus on the current moment and let the future take its course.

However, thoughts of new resolutions vanished when a shiver crept down her spine, accompanied by a sensation that made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. It wasn't until Luke had finally finished his monologue—which Molly had been ignoring—when she realized what was wrong.

"Mr. Briar," she unexpectedly called. "You can come out now."

Confusion crossed Luke's features at the sudden use of his last name—nobody called him Briar. Even so, he raised his head, only to find that Molly's attention wasn't on him but on a cluster of bushes nearby. Her axe limply hung from her side while she stared fixedly at the shrubs. Luke was about to speak up, asking why she was talking to inanimate plants, when the bushes suddenly made a rustling sound.

There was a cough and Dale sheepishly stepped out from the bushes. He awkwardly cleared his throat and adjusted his sleeveless jacket. "Good afternoon…"

Keeping her expression composed yet polite, Molly didn't seem at all surprised at the sudden appearance of Luke's father. Luke, however, was not as composed. "Pops?" he jumped back. "Were you spying on us?"

Dale barked out defensively, "I have the same amount of right to be here as you do! And I was not spying…just simply observing."

His son didn't buy it for a second.

"Molly, how long has he been spying on us?" Luke asked, pointedly enunciating the word 'spying'.

"Not too long," Molly replied promptly as Dale's face began to redden. "Probably around fifteen minutes, more or less."

"Good instincts, girl," the older man commented grudgingly.

"You two are just alike—both of you are loud breathers."

"We are not alike!" Both generations of Briar shouted simultaneously. They glanced up to gawk at each other, and then hurriedly ducked their heads when they met one another's gazes.

"Uh huh, whatever you say," Molly muttered. Boys and their egos…

Luke nervously cleared his throat before turning to his father. "Was there something you need, Pops? Is Bo having trouble with the store?"

"It took a while for Bo to get ready—he was muttering some nonsense about 'llama's spit'—but he's handling the store decently enough."

Molly's eyes widened and she looked at Luke in disbelief. "That's what you wanted llama's spit for?! Gross!"

The carpenter smiled sheepishly at the girl's furious gaze. "You gave it to me…"

"Yeah, but I didn't think you would use it to torture your cousin!"

"What did you think I would do with it?" Luke argued. "Make glue from it?"

"I don't know! I thought it might've been for some weird workout thing!"

"What workout would need llama's spit?"

"How am I supposed to know? Males do crazy stuff!" The farmer threw her hands in the air in exasperation.

"And what, girls don't?"

"Not as much as men."

Luke was to about spit out a response but froze when a booming noise cut through the air. Argument momentarily forgotten, both the farmer's and the carpenter's heads snapped towards the sound. Unexpectedly, the source of the racket was coming from Dale himself.

The man was raucously laughing, and he had to hold his paunchy stomach to stop it from jiggling. Molly and Luke looked to each other, both wearing an uncertain expression, as Luke's father continued to make an uproar; the noise even made the nearby birds fly away in fright.

"Any girl who can handle herself like that deserves a seat at my table," he said—almost shouted—as he wiped a tear from his eyes. "You kids have been spending a lot of time together, eh?"

Despite the fact that they were both in their twenties and definitely not 'kids', Molly and Luke nodded without hesitation.

Expecting this answer, Dale continued and said in a gruff voice, "Well? Are you two a thing—or whatever you kids call it—or not?"

Instead of replying like she normally would, Molly stayed silent while her gaze flickered anxiously towards Luke, trying to gauge his reaction. Swallowing uneasily, unexpected jitters filled the carpenter's stomach as all eyes turned to him. From experience, it was easy for Luke to see past Molly's forced indifference to the anxiety underneath. Dale's hard expression, on the other hand, was unreadable except for mild curiosity.

Luke hesitated for only a moment before he answered in a surprisingly sure voice, "Yes, we are."

Next to him, Molly let out a breath that she hadn't realized she was holding. Smiling timidly, the two unconsciously inched closer together. Dale did not fail to notice the sudden closeness between the farmer and the carpenter, and he didn't seem surprise at his son's abrupt declaration.

"Even a cantankerous old man like me isn't blind to the gushiness you two send out. Just don't do anything too scandalous tonight, or I'll kick both of your smelly bottoms out of my shop," Dale grunted, his moustache bristling while he talked. "Be there at seven sharp, missy. We're having steak tonight."

With that, the man turned around and left, muttering something about the children nowadays.

Molly blinked. "What was that about?"

"I think he had just invited you to dinner," said Luke, fear returning to his eyes. The last time his father invited a girl to dinner…oh Goddess…

Part 3

"Are you sure I look okay?" Molly whispered nervously to the carpenter, self-consciously pulling down the ends of her sleeves. The afternoon had passed and the sun was beginning to set as Luke and Molly stood outside of the carpenter's home. Neither was wearing particularly formal clothing for dinner, as Luke confirmed that it wasn't necessary, but Molly had still put on denim-shorts and a neat, white blouse. (If Finn had it his way, she would've been dressed in a full gown).

"You look fine, Molls," Luke reassured. "You know, I've never taken you as the girl who would get all self-conscious like this. You could be dressed in your usual outfit that looks as if it had been worn for several days on end, and Pops would still approve."

The girl lightly hit the carpenter on the shoulder. "Have you looked in the mirror lately, honey-boy? You aren't very spick-and-span yourself."

"Hey, I'll have you know that it took me twenty minutes to do my hair!" Luke sniffed indignantly.

"You are the only male I know who would spend that much time on their hair."

"Next to Julius, you mean?"

"Correct." Molly took a deep, soothing breath and said, "So is there anything that I should know now before we have dinner with your family?"

"Just…be ready to answer very abrupt questions. And utensils that are randomly thrown. And gas…lots of gas."

Molly raised an eyebrow but Luke didn't divulge any further hints. He pushed opened the carpentry's door and they stepped into his house. An old, faded rug greeted them at the doorway. They were instantly embraced by the sharp and distinct fragrance of wood chippings that was always present in the shop; it reminded Molly of how Luke always smelled.

Looking around with a curious gaze, she deliberately took in everything in the room and its furnishings. As expected from a carpenters' house, most of the furniture and decorations was made from a large variety of wood, many of different shades and textures. A large counter took up the majority of the space in the room. On the opposite wall was an old-fashioned, hand-carved clock that made a continuous ticking that occurred simultaneously with the swinging pendulum. Then there were shelves that wrapped around the room, and lining it were dozens of handmade, tiny wooden figures. Some resembled animals while others were designed to look like people or miniature houses. Molly recognized them as carvings—and very good ones too.

The house was noticeably well lived in and all of the furniture was worn from constant use over the years. It gave off the comforting feeling of being at home. Molly loved it instantly.

"Over here," Luke said, taking her by the hand. He led her through an open doorway, and into a bright kitchen. A large table with random dents was placed in the middle of the room, and it held four plates that were filled with steak, mashed potatoes, and green beans. The smell of grease from the steak instantly made both Luke's and Molly's stomachs rumble, and they hurriedly took their seats next to each other.

Dale was sitting at the head of the table, plate in front of him, while Bo was seated to his uncle's right side. "Hi, Molly." Bo smiled shyly at the girl.

Molly grinned in response while Dale viciously cut a large piece of steak. "'Bout time you two got here. I was afraid that I had scared you off."

"It would take more than you for us to be scared, Pops," Luke said, spooning up some potatoes.

"Good lad," he grunted, "but I'm more concerned for Molly than for you. Some females get all weak in the knees at the sight of us brawny men in our natural habitats."

Luke snorted. "The only thing that Molly would get weak knees for is a machine gun."

"While that's true," the farmer said, "I'll still make sure not to aim for the mashed potatoes if I do feel faint; wouldn't want to mess with good food."

Dale barked out a laugh. "I like this girl. She has her priorities straight!"

After that, small talk spread around. Most of the conversation was directed at Molly in the form of casual questions: 'Where are you from?' 'What do you like to do?' 'Have you ever taken a bath in melted chocolate before?' (The last inquiry unsurprisingly came from Luke). She answered each one easily enough, and eventually the questions died out and the attention became set on the meals.

As the Briar men dug into their food, Molly turned to Bo, who had been keeping quiet up until then. "Were you the ones who made those carvings?" she asked.

The boy perked his head up in interest. "Yes. My dad taught me how when I was little."

"He must've been a good teacher then; they were all very well made."

Bo smiled a little wider at the praise. "I like carving angels the best. Then they can watch over us."

"That's an excellent idea. Do you think I could buy one from you sometime? I could use my own guardian angel."

"Sure!" he nodded eagerly. "I can also teach you origami, too, if you would like."

The paper fireflies that Luke had given her before rose up in her thoughts. "Oh, you taught Luke how to make those fireflies he gave me, right?"

As if an unpleasant memory had come, Bo frowned. "Yeah. It had taken forever too; he doesn't have much patience for stuff like that."

"Why am I not surprised?"

The two shared a laugh while Dale's and Luke's discussion of the best tasting meat ended. With a stoic gaze, he looked at Molly and his son in turn. "So," he began, "have you two kissed yet?"

There was an earsplitting clatter when Luke dropped his utensils against his plate. "Pops," he hissed, leaning forward in his seat. Bo's eyes nervously flickered between the two, probably remembering the night before.

Despite the blunt question, Molly didn't seem bothered and her voice was seamlessly unruffled when she replied, "No, sir, we haven't."

As both Luke and Bo sunk lower into their chairs, Dale seemed mildly surprised at the answer. "And how did this relationship come to be in the first place?"

"It just happened." The farmer shrugged. "One thing led to the next and then abracadabra! Though, it may have something to do with your son's unrelenting stubbornness."

"Girls love my charm." Luke grinned.

"Or they just feel pity for you," suggested his fellow apprentice.

Luke stuck out his tongue while his father asked, "And what will happen after?"

"After what..?" Molly said, puzzled.

"After the competition." Both Luke and Bo immediately stopped their shenanigans with one another, and looked at Dale. His gaze was collected yet intensely persistent while Molly, for the first time that night, hesitated. Her related ponderings earlier that day was remembered, leaving an unpleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach. Luke, who hadn't given the question much thought himself, waited to hear the girl's response.

However, the silence continued until Dale crossed his arms and said, "You seem like a nice girl, Molly, and I know that you make my son happy, but pretending that someone won't get hurt in the end is just not realistic."

"Pops," Luke said through gritted teeth, "That's enough. You just said that you like her; why do you need to ask all of this?"

Dale's previous composure cracked and he leaned forward in his seat. A fist crashed down on the table, making the plates shake alarmingly. "I am the head of this house, and it's my job to make sure that no harm comes to this family. If it means being direct and asking the hard questions, then so be it! None of us can pretend that this contest—the reward—won't determine who stays on this island and who gets shipped away! Hamilton may be a good mayor, but until whatever is wrong with this place gets fixed, things will only get worse!"

After the man's words, there was a dead silence that filled the room. Bo looked close to tears, Luke had worry and doubt in his eyes, and Molly looked down at her lap in shame. Realizing what his outburst had caused, Dale slumped back with a heavy sigh. The calloused hand of a hard worker passed over his eyes, and then swept back his messy hair. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "Ramsey said that I would have to tell you guys the full extent of everything eventually…I just didn't plan it to be like this. There's still a hope that it all will work out—for everyone—but until then I need to be cautious."

"I understand," Molly said quietly. And in truth, she did. He had a family and a home to protect. But she had a farm—and her animals, of course—to care for, too.

There was another long, tense silence that lingered in the air. Of course Luke was the first to break it. "So…now can we have dessert?" he asked, flippant as always.

Before anyone could answer—or just yell at him—Bo exclaimed, "Hey, what happened to my steak?!"

All eyes turned to the boy's empty plate. Then a vulgar, spitting sound came from behind and the four of them turned to see Chief. The dog was lying down and in between his front paws was a half-eaten steak. Spittle flew from the animal's mouth as it continued to gnaw at the meat; Chief's tail made a thumping sound as it repeatedly hit the wood in a happy beat. Realizing that the dog had an audience, it looked up from its stolen meal with big, doleful eyes.

"Aww!" Molly cooed at the same time that Bo protested, "My food!"

"At least someone's happy," mused Luke. Then he turned to Molly and winked. "Well, tonight went pretty well. Much better than the last time a visitor came over and Pops had broken several knives. Ah, good times…"

Pieces of Lumber Left: 205

The number of things that Luke could put on pancakes: A disturbingly high amount.


	14. Day Nine (Morning)

Day Nine (Day)

Last night Bo had finally learned from his past mistakes, and refused to sleep in the same room with Luke. Instead, he had taken up a temporary residency on a couch in Dale's room. Though the door to the bedroom was unlocked, Dale's threatening presence deterred a certain carpenter from trying anything prankster-like.

Unfortunately for the twelve year-old, that was only a tiny bump in Luke's master plan.

The next morning, Luke woke up ten minutes earlier in his solitary bedroom. He quietly crept passed his father's bedroom door—from the other side came the sound of soft snoring mixed in with rumbling wheezes—and walked into the kitchen.

Still sleeping, Chief was lying with his head nestled between his giant paws in the corner of the kitchen. The dog instantly woke up when his sensitive hearing picked up the sounds of one of his master's footsteps. Chief didn't have to look up to identify the human as the constantly energized one—the smell of honey and forest gave it away. His big, brown eyes followed the human around the kitchen. A random tune was hummed under his young master's breath when he walked over to the kitchen counter, opening the lower cabinet and digging through it.

Chief's heavy tail began to thump a steady beat as he recognized the drawer. Thump. Thump. Thump.

The tempo quickened even further when his young master pulled out a familiar red box. Thump-thump-thump-thump.

The human—oh, what a nice human!—tugged on the overhead cabinet and brought out a wide, plastic bowl. Setting it on the counter, he tipped the contents of the box into it. A pile of white biscuits tumbled out, followed by the creamy aroma that made the dog start to salivate. Once the bowl was overflowing with treats, the human lifted the box and put it back into the cabinet.

"Here you go, boy," the dog's young master said. He lowered the bowl to the floor and Chief immediately ran to it, spittle flying. Chief couldn't believe his luck as he chomped down on the first biscuits; his master's fingers were affectionately ruffling his fur. The dog had never gotten so many delicious treats before, much less at the same time.

The biscuits were quickly consumed, but Chief continued to eagerly lick the bowl with his massive tongue to catch the remaining crumbs. The smell of the treat still lingered in his nostrils. Once he was finally satisfied, the dog looked at the human with utter adoration. Chief knew that he would do anything to please his young master.

The human lowered himself to his knees so he and the dog were similar in height. "Did you enjoy your snack, Chief?" the boy cooed in a strange tone, fingers raking through the dog's thick mane. "Now, can you do ol' Lukey a favor?"

Licking the boy's smooth cheek, Chief huffed eagerly.

"Good boy," the human murmured. He leaned forward and said something in the dog's ears. As if Chief had understood the request perfectly, he placed a heavy paw on his master's shoulders before trotting off to the Big Master's bedroom.

Adjusting the pillow he had brought with him, Bo tossed uneasily in his sleep. Between Dale's rumbling snores and the lumpy couch, last night hadn't been very restful. Even so, bunking in Dale's room was better than the absolute chance of waking up with honey pasted in his hair or rats crawling in the bed. Nope. In here there was no chance that Luke could do any nasty, devious, unethical—

Two heavy pressure points suddenly pressed down on Bo's skinny chest, undoubtedly leaving some bruises. There was a smooth, slimy sensation that started at his chin, traveled up his cheek, and ended with his hair sticking upwards in gooey spikes. A nauseating odor hit his senses, making him wish to gag. It reminded him of…Milkbones. The boy looked up and stared straight into a pair of dopey, brown eyes.

"Chief!"

There was a sudden clicking sound and a flash of light came from the doorway. "Bo and Chief sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

As if to confirm the song, Chief's massive tongue swept over the majority of the boy's face, successfully dousing him in spit.

Bo was quickly realizing that nowhere was safe from his cousin.

Molly took deep, thirsty gulps from her water bottle. The feeling of the icy drink sliding down her throat helped to ward off the insufferable heat that seemed to radiate from the farmer's skin. Thin trickles of the liquid escaped from the corners of her mouth and dripped onto her shirt—not that she cared. Once quenched, Molly twisted the plastic cap back onto the bottle and stared at the field that spread out before her. A sudden breeze swept through the land, rifling the farmer's hair; with it came the scent of freshly turned dirt and watered plants.

In preparation for the upcoming summer, Molly had planted a new set of crops a week ago. Already green plants—only a few inches high—were sprouting in neat rows across the field. Those who weren't very experienced with botany wouldn't have been able to classify the young sprouts; their leaves and stalks were still too undeveloped to reveal any significant traits. However, Molly possessed a more trained eye, and could name each crop with a single glance—she had planted them herself, after all. A satisfaction spread through her as the new sprouts stood tall and proud, wavering slightly in the breeze; not one stray weed could be seen.

That was one of the best things about being a farmer, Molly believed. Each and every day she would work hard to bring the land back to its former glory. Hours on end she would spend carefully tending to the crops, watching over her animals, or rebuilding the farm piece by piece. It was a slow and tedious process, but it was worth it.

When Molly stepped back to take in her work, the changes that she had accomplished would show, reflecting the tender care that was put into the farmland. It was as if the farm recognized what she was doing, and then reward her with tiny miracles: the field would get a little richer, the animals a little happier, and her home a little more beautiful. It's one of the greatest feelings in the world to know that what she was doing mattered.

This is my home, Molly thought, remembering the pleasant times she had experienced there. And I might lose it all tomorrow night.

That was it. In little more than twenty-four hours, her whole future will be decided. Before her thoughts could turn down a darker road, whispered words tickled her ear. "What is he doing here?"

Molly glanced at her shoulder and realized that Finn was sitting on her sleeve. Though he weighed almost nothing, Molly still wished that he would fly by himself instead of always using her as free transportation. The sprite's eyes were squinted as he tried to pick out something in the distance. She turned to see what had caught Finn's attention, and her gaze focused on the worn path that intersected her farmland. It didn't take long to notice a shock of familiar blue hair. Spotting the girl, Luke fully extended his arm in the air and waved to his friend. Even from afar Molly could see his large, characteristic smile.

Molly returned the wave with one of her own, and a fluttering sensation filled her stomach. "He probably just saw me on his way to the Fugue Forest."

"At six o'clock?" Finn said doubtfully. "You two usually meet at the forest at around seven-thirty, and I doubt he'd go there without you. No, I bet he has other plans."

He wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner, and Molly felt the sudden urge to flick her fingers and send the sprite flying. Before the farmer could act out the idea, they realized that Luke had stepped off the main road and started to make his way towards her.

"Told you." Finn grinned and began to giggle like a small child. "I'll let you two have some alone time."

Right before Molly's poised fingers made contact with the sprite, there was a puff of smoke on her shoulder that smelled of burnt cinnamon—the aroma of magic. Even before the smoke cleared, Molly knew that Finn wouldn't be sitting on her shoulder, but instead in the house where he was no doubt spying.

By then Luke was only a few yards away from the girl, so Molly helped close the distance. "Hey," she said once they were in front of each other. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I might as well see where I'm getting my groceries from." Luke squinted at the crops in an overly-exaggerated manner. "Yep, those tomatoes seem to be growing fine."

Molly raised an eyebrow. "You mean, 'those cucumbers seem to be growing fine'?"

"Wait, those are cucumbers? But why does it have flowers?"

"They're supposed to have flowers, doofus," the farmer said, trying to suppress a chuckle when Luke gawked at the crops incredulously. "A lot of plants develop blossoms; that's how the food grows."

"Really? I didn't know that…"

"And so the master becomes the student." She rolled her eyes.

Luke's expression changed to mock-indignation. "Hey, I can still beat you in the forest any day."

"Don't bet on it," remarked Molly, a playful grin starting to show. "So why did you really come to visit? You know, besides checking on groceries that you can't even name."

"Well, I half-expected you to pack your bags and run after what happened yesterday."

"Is that disappointment I hear, honey-boy?"

The carpenter shook his head and laughed. "The opposite. Who else is supposed to protect me from the Witch Princess when she comes yelling?"

"Oh, come on, she's not that bad." When Molly received a look, she amended, "Okay, she really is that bad. But it can't be easy living in the forest all alone with no one else to talk to; anyone would get a bit stir-crazy."

"A bit?"

"Fine, a lot."

"That fortuneteller in town isn't insane, though. He's just a loner," Luke pointed out, and then frowned as a sudden thought occurred to him. "Actually, I haven't seen him around lately. I wonder if something happened…"

"He's probably doing another new project or something." Molly waved away her friend's concern, bringing them back to the real matter at hand. "So are you going to tell me the reason you're here, or not?"

"Oh, right. Well, I was just thinking about what happened last night at dinner. Do you think we should, um, you know…talk about it..?" Luke nervously scratched the back of his head. It was obvious that he wasn't accustomed to very serious conversations…which, unfortunately, have been happening a lot lately.

"I was thinking about that too." The farmer brushed back a stray lock of hair before sighing. "Honestly, Luke, I'm not sure what to say. Your dad was being truthful when he said that both of us won't be getting a happy ending."

He nodded solemnly. "I know but…we can still be friends, right?"

"I think we're more than friends, Luke," Molly blurted out before she could stop herself. Luke's head jerked upwards, eyes wide with shock. Molly could feel the blood rush to her face. "Oh, Goddess, I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean to assume; it's just—"

"No," the carpenter said hurriedly, successfully stopping her from continuing. "I want to be more than just friends. I mean…you know, uh...that is…we don't have to—"

Taking a deep breath, Luke stopped himself before continuing. "Look," he said, "I don't know what will happen after this competition, but I do know that I want us to be able to see each other afterwards—no matter who wins."

When Molly didn't speak, doubts began to race through the carpenter's mind. Goddess, what did I just say? Bo's chick flick movies are beginning to rub off on me; I must sound so cheesy! He nervously fidgeted as he waited for Molly's reaction; he could swear that his heartbeat was pumping two-hundred miles a minute. Struggling with a dry mouth, he said, "Molls, I'm sorry. If you don't want to—"

"You're an idiot," she suddenly interrupted, making Luke's yellow eyes widen in alarm. "A bloody, stupid, marvelous, cute idiot."

He blinked. "Uh…thank you, I think…but I don't see how that has to do with—"

Suddenly there was a warm pressure against Luke's mouth, making his breath hitch. Before he knew what was happening, delicate fingers wrapped around his neck, brushing his skin and raising goosebumps. The familiar aroma of herbs came from all around.

Molly was kissing him.

Molly. Was. Kissing. HIM.

Luke didn't pause to consider it. He just closed his eyes and savored the moment. Soon all worries of the competition, the carpentry, and everything else faded away to an insignificant blur until the only thing that mattered was Molly pressed against his arms. Strong arms wrapped around the girl's slim waist, lightly pushing her closer. Molly smiled against his lips in response.

From the inside of the house, Finn secretly watched through the window as the lovebirds embraced. "About time", the sprite muttered to himself, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. "Maybe I should keep an eye out for some wedding dresses…"

It could've been seconds, minutes, or hours before Molly was the first to pull away. The calloused palms of her hands were still pressed against the carpenter's neck, refusing to let go. "Wow," Luke murmured breathlessly, lips still numb with the taste of her. He would've said something else, like 'dang that was extreme', but he could barely string more than two words together, much less an entire sentence.

Molly giddily laughed at his dazed expression. Then, leaning forward until their foreheads gently touched, she whispered, "Is that a good enough answer?"

Luke had to seriously concentrate before responding, "Ah…what?"

Pressed against her waist, his hands shook when the girl laughed again. Luke found himself grinning even though she was probably (okay, definitely) laughing at him.

"The answer to your question before is yes. No matter what happens after the competition, we'll stick together. Agreed?"

The carpenter's grin widened. "Only if you kiss me again." Without waiting for a reply, Luke leaned in and kissed the girl once more.

"By the way," she murmured when they pulled away again, "if you ever cheat on me, you'll be leaving this island through a body bag. Am I understood?"

"Don't worry." His gaze held her bright, amber eyes. "I may not be the brightest tool in the shed, but I'm not that stupid."

"I'll remind you of that the next time you get us lost in the forest."

Though Luke pulled back in mock-hurt, his hands didn't move from her waist. "Hey! I never got us lost! You were the one who fell into a hole!"

"Because you decided to pull a prank on the Witch Princess that was only a teensy bit dangerous," she pointed out, mimicking what he had said before.

"You were the one who wouldn't stop running!"

"You're wondering why I was running away from a stranger who was following me." Molly raised a playful eyebrow.

"Details. And speaking of the forest…" Luke looked up and Molly followed his gaze. The blue sky overhead was quickly being filled with dark gray clouds that churned and twisted. "We should probably head there soon. I think a storm may be coming, and we definitely don't want to be stuck in the middle of the forest when it arrives."

Molly nodded and stepped away from the carpenter. "Good idea. Can you wait for ten minutes? I have to take care of my animals before we go, or Mr. Spots will get grumpy."

"And we don't want that."

"Exactly."

Still lingering in a daze, Luke contently watched as she entered the barn. However, some compulsion made him glance up again. He pursed his lips at the darkening sky. An odd feeling that couldn't be explained told him that it was more than just a simple storm…

Pieces of Lumber Left: 100

The number of times that Finn spies on Molly and Luke: A disturbing amount of times. Creepy little sprites…


	15. Day Nine (Night)

The distant memory of jasmine perfume came back to Luke as he turned over in sleep; she always said that the old-fashioned scent reminded people of times long ago. Even eight years later her words rang with truth.

A hand gently but firmly shook the sixteen year-old awake. Almost instantly, Luke came to full alertness. His view was taken up by two yellow irises—ones that matched his own exactly. "Ma?" he whispered into the quiet dawn.

Her skin formed tiny wrinkles around her eyes when the woman laughed. They both knew what she was going to say: "Let's get lost."

The sound of rain drumming on the rooftop came in random bursts, never lasting more than a few minutes. With each heavy gust of wind, the plastic blinds from the windows would shudder and bang angrily against the glass, as if begging for release. Chief, unable to fall asleep, lay on the ground next to his Big Master's bedside. An anxious whimpering sound rumbled from deep within the dog's throat as the humans obliviously slept on.

The creatures of the forest were just beginning to wake while Luke and his mother trekked through the dense trees. Dozens of brightly colored birds were already perching in the branches overhead, watching the two Briars' progress with beady eyes. The teenager pursed his lips and several low notes resonated. The sound was repeated briefly from above before fading back into silence.

Walking ahead, his mother began whistling a more swift and lively melody, and the birds instantly carried it throughout the trees. Luke grinned as even more of the feathered creatures landed nearby to join the chorus. Only his mother could round up that many fans with just a few calculated whistles.

The two Briars entered an unfamiliar clearing. Many years ago Luke, who had just begun accompanying his mother to the forest, had asked her why she would always choose a random path through the forest instead of one she already knew of. She had responded by affectionately ruffling his unruly hair, saying that it was her way of learning the forest's secrets.

Even as a young adult Luke would feel a jolt of excitement whenever he goes to someplace new and foreign; the possibility of a mystery behind each tree, underneath every leaf, sent a tingle down his spine.

Ka-BOOM!

Luke woke to the claps of thunder; his heart felt as if it was jumping out of his chest. Lighting illuminated the room for a split second before it plunged into darkness again; it must've been very late in the night. The downpour of rain had ceased for the moment, but the wind banged against the windows relentlessly.

Immediately the carpenter shot out of bed. Three hasty strides later and he was across the room, shaking his cousin awake…or trying to, at least. "Bo, get up," he said, trying to keep the panic from his voice.

The twelve year-old mumbled something incomprehensible before turning over. "You have to get up, come on!" Luke urged, shaking the boy until the bed rocked.

"Stopit'uke," Bo muttered feebly. Another bolt of lightning lit up the room. The deafening sound of thunder shook through the carpenter's body. This time Bo blinked awake. Sitting up, the boy rubbed his eyelids. "Luke?" he whispered groggily. The boy paused uncertainly. "What's that smell?"

A pungent odor hit the carpenter's senses, raising the fine hairs on the back of his neck. It smelled like…smoke. Something was burning.

There was a banging sound and an enormous, unidentifiable shadow filled the doorway. A yell died in the carpenter's throat when another flash of light revealed the figure to be Dale. The man was still wearing his old-fashioned nightgown and a floppy hat; the limp pompom that was connected hung in front of his face. In any other situation Luke would've laughed, but his father's dire expression killed all remaining humor. A sense of dread settled in the pit of Luke's stomach.

"Boys, get your panties on and hurry up!" Dale barked. "The shed is on fire."

Luke and his mother worked side by side each other; the thumps of axes kept time to their conversation. "Hold your axe a little higher, dear. That way your swings will be more extreme," his mother instructed; a stray lock of blonde hair fell to her chin. Once her son made the necessary adjustment she added, "Now what were you saying again, honey?" Luke launched back into the story he was retelling.

"So Owen and I decided to see what Chase would look like in a dress, so we put a really big basket over his doorway and when he came through—WHAM! He was no match for the mighty Bro-Men! And wow, did he look hilarious in that dress—it really suits those girly hairpins he wears."

When Luke didn't hear the sounds of laughing like he normally would when he recounted a prank, he turned to look at his mother. The tip of her axe skimmed the ground when she peered upwards. Luke followed his mother's gaze.

Thick, gray clouds were swallowing up the blue of the sky. It didn't take long for the clouds to effectively block out the sun, shrouding the earth in shadows.

"Something doesn't feel right." Luke's mother pursed her lips.

"Do you think the weather will be good enough for your trip?"

"Should be," she said, turning to her son. "It's probably just a little rain; nothing that should stop me from leaving today."

She barely finished her sentence when a chilling wind ripped through the atmosphere, sending the leaves rustling.

The stench of smoke was overpowering. Dale, Bo, and Luke ran outside to the backyard. Chief was already waiting for them, pacing back and forth while barking frantically. An awful stench burned Luke's nostrils while he tried to see through watery eyes.

"No," he whispered numbly, staring at what looked like the heart of an inferno.

Many people claim that time seems to linger when something unbelievable or dangerous occurs—as if the seconds mercilessly slows so the victims could take in the full sense of dread and helplessness. And Luke had never felt so helpless in his life.

Every breath echoed loudly in his ears. The shed was swallowed up, darkening, in waves of vicious flames. In one corner of the shed there was a black spot where presumably the lighting had originally struck. Since there was a break in the rain, the crackling blaze was wild and unrestrained. It was almost gracefully surreal how the licks of fire wavered and trembled with the blasts of wind, illuminating the night. Billows of smoke and ash lifted high into the atmosphere. Dale, Bo, and Luke each clutched a wad of fabric over their noses.

Inside of the burning shed was sheet upon sheet of stacked lumber—nine hundred pieces to be exact. Luke could do nothing but watch as all of his hopes and dreams were destroyed in front of him, piece by piece. All of those days he had spent in the forest, working to save his home, were reduced to ashes carried by the storm's wind. The hole in Luke's chest that had begun to disappear reopened wider than ever. It seemed to swallow not just his heart but also every thought, every nerve, until nothing was left.

Beside him, Luke could hear his father shouting at Bo to get the neighbors. However, nothing felt real; it was as if Luke was just a detached bystander who could only watch as the horror took place. Though his instincts screamed to run, the carpenter's feet remained rooted to the ground. Then, as if his brain snapped back into focus, everything came crashing down.

"Luke!" Dale yelled over the screeching wind. The carpenter had a feeling that it wasn't the first time his father had screamed his name. "Get your sorry butt moving and fetch some buckets of water!"

All of the pent-up energy was suddenly released and Luke bolted to the side of the yard where large buckets lay. He had just begun to fill the buckets with water from the gardening hose, when several figures dashed through the doorway to the yard. Luke recognized the figures as Ramsey, Owen, and Chloe. A moment later Phoebe and Mira came out after them. Each of the villagers were carrying weighty pails that swished with water.

Together the Garmon Mine residents faced the fire, pails at the ready, when there was another strike of lighting farther off in the distance. The bolt was immediately accompanied by a heavy torrent of rain. As the fire hissed and sparked in protest, sending another voluminous cloud of smoke, the villagers lowered the unneeded pails to the ground. It didn't take long until the flames were completely extinguished, leaving only thin swirls of smoke and ash.

Abandoning his position, Luke sprinted towards the now crumbling building. Dale caught his son's arm when he passed, trying to hold him back, but Luke yanked away. Holding back a cough, the carpenter tried to ignore the burning sensation in his eyes while he took in the crumbling remains of the shed. Parts of the roof were the color of coal, while some areas were missing completely. The shed itself was barely standing upright, and only a few slabs of lumber were untouched.

"It's all gone," said Luke, fighting back a cough. "Everything…"

"Bro…" Owen reached forward with a hand stretching towards his best friend. Before he could touch him, Luke jerked back. The miner let his hand fall to his side. Everyone was silent as they watched the carpenter with a mournful, worried look in their eyes. Luke couldn't stand it.

He didn't lift his head while he ran past the crowd. Only Bo called out to him, but Luke refused to look back. Stopping only to retrieve his axe, the carpenter left the house. He turned his back away—away from the smoke that continued to rise, carrying the broken fragments of his dreams to somewhere he couldn't reach.

Something had snapped inside of Luke.

His mother was silent and pensive the whole walk home. Luke had tried to get her to speak several times, but after awhile he had given up. When they reached the carpentry, his father was already waiting for them.

Luke watched as his parents began to pack the last few items into one suitcase. The conversation was in quiet tones and more reserved than he would've liked. The boy's eyes flicked to the ticking clock that hung on the wall. The packed suitcase closed with a zipping sound. Luke knew that time was up.

His mother dusted off her hands. "Honey," she said, addressing Dale, "could you get the snack bag from the refrigerator please? I think that will be good to have for the trip."

"Sure." Dale grabbed the suitcase by the handle. "I'll put this by the doorway too."

As soon as the door was closed, Luke asked, "Ma, do you have to leave?"

His mother smiled tiredly, as if they'd been through this conversation many times. "You know I do, Luke. Your aunt and uncle need me to help with the construction on the new town up north. They want advice on the land there, and I'm the best for the job."

The sixteen year-old bit his lip. "I know, but I wish you didn't have to go."

The woman sighed and walked over to where her son was sitting on the dining room table. Luke was taller than his mother ever since he experienced a major growth spurt the year before. She bent her knees so she was eye-level with him. Luke saw something in her gaze that made him feel uneasy, but was unable identify what could be wrong.

His mother's slim hands, calloused with years of work, reached behind the back of her head to where a bandana laid flat. Luke loved that bandana; he couldn't remember a time where his mother was without it. So it came as a surprise when she untied the knot that held the ends of the cloth together, letting her fair locks fall to her face.

With a careful reverence, she spread the fabric across her son's open palms. Her fingers traced the blue and red flame design.

"This is for you," she said, smiling like only a mother could. "It will protect you when I'm gone."

Luke spoke with an unexpectedly choked voice. "Thank you, Ma, but why are you giving this to me now?"

"You will be a fine man one day," she said, ignoring his question. For a reason Luke didn't understand, her yellow eyes shone while she gently pulled back his thick blue hair and began knotting the bandana. Once it was tied securely, her fingers slowly traced over Luke's forehead then rested on his chin.

"I love you," she said softly, reaching to kiss his forehead.

"Love you too, Ma." Luke watched with puzzlement as a single tear slid down his mother's face.

Luke's drenched clothes clung to his moist skin. Constant pummels of rain hounded his every step. He depended only on the occasional crack of lighting and his night vision to guide him through the dark. The sides of his chest heaved but he didn't stop running until he passed the Fugue Forest's gate.

Dark hair stuck to his face. Placing a hand against the scratchy wood, Luke stopped and took several deep, shuddering breaths. He wouldn't stop here though—he couldn't.

Once the stabbing pain subsided, the carpenter started to run through the trees. His boots dug into the mud while he navigated the shadowy forest. Anyone else would've been lost in minutes, but Luke knew the place like the back of his hand.

It didn't take him long to come upon a glade. The trees' branches and leaves shook with the continuous storm, casting an eerie feeling over the place. Luke didn't hesitate when he stopped at the closest tree and unstrapped his axe. The handle was slick but he grasped it tightly, lifting it. The sharp blade thumped against the trunk over and over again. No other thought passed through the carpenter's head except that he needed to replace what had been lost. It was an impossible task and he knew it, yet he didn't stop.

A frantic desperateness took over, and each swing became less controlled. Luke could feel wetness drip down his face, but he couldn't tell whether it was tears or rain. His chest began to shake uncontrollably while images filled his mind, blinding him.

Luke's mother sat in the back seat of a car. Her sister, Maggie, was driving the vehicle while her brother-in-law, James, sat in the passenger seat.

"How is the baby?" Mrs. Briar asked. She looked through the window, watching as the towering buildings became smaller as they left the city. It was a relief to be gone from the skyscrapers and the thousands of people; the bustling city was so overwhelming compared to the quiet life at Castanet Island.

"Hardly a baby anymore," Maggie informs with a laugh. "Bo is already four. Can you believe it?"

"They grow up fast, don't they?"

James looked back to grin at Luke's mother. "No kidding. I can swear that he was crawling just yesterday. So how is your boy, Carol? He's sixteen now, right?"

A faraway look took over the woman's expression, and her smile grew soft, as if remembering something pleasant. "Yes, that's right. He's growing to be such a wonderful man."

Turning the steering wheel, Maggie snorted. "Didn't you say that he gets into trouble all of the time with his friend?"

At that, Mrs. Briar laughed. "Uh huh. Those two are certainly troublemakers. Just today Luke was telling me how they were pranking one of their classmates."

"That sounds familiar." James raised an eyebrow knowingly. "I wonder where he got those traits from."

"What can I say? I've raised him well."

"Oh! Remember that prank we pulled on the chemistry teacher in tenth grade, Carol?" Maggie said excitedly, making her dusty-blonde curls bounce—a family trait that both sisters shared. "You dragged me along against my will, and we sneaked into his office—"

"And made his science lab explode," Luke's mother finished, remembering the way the teacher's face turned purple.

James shook his head incredulously. "Really?"

Maggie nodded. "Yup. And after we came out of the principal's office—with a week's worth of detention, mind you—Carol had the biggest grin on her face and she yelled, 'That was EXTREME!'"

"I only regret that I didn't add more vinegar." She was always the more devious of the two siblings. Luke's mother reached a hand to her hair, only to remember that the bandana wasn't there anymore. Her thoughts flew back to her family at the carpentry…so far away now. "Do you ever wonder…what we will leave behind when we die?"

"Die?" James repeated, puzzled at the sudden change of topic.

"What made you think of something so depressing?" Maggie's brow furrowed and she glanced towards Carol.

In that one second it took to look back, the unthinkable happened.

"Maggie, look out!"

Luke's body was shaking. He knew he should've been cold in the rain, yet all he felt was numbness. Blinking, he tried to erase the images that kept on reappearing but they wouldn't go away. As if he could chop the pictures into oblivion, each swing of his axe contained a desperate fervor as it cut into the wood. Flashes of memories burst into life, an echo of the past. It was too much—everything was too much. Why couldn't it all just stop?

That was when it happened. The axe's handle slipped from Luke's grip. Again, time seemed to slow to an agonizing speed, and he could almost see the blade cutting through the air as it fell. The tool landed blade first into the earth just a foot away. The carpenter stared at it in shock. Never in his life had the axe fallen from his hands. It was like a sinister reminder of what was changing.

Luke didn't move to retrieve the tool. Instead he pressed his back against the rough tree trunk and let himself fall to the muddy ground. Once the tears began to stream down his face, mixing with the rainwater, there was no end to them. Tucking his legs to his chest, erratic spasms shook through him. He couldn't see without being blinded by memories and tears—the world became unfocused.

Fumbling hands reached to untie the soaked bandana. Luke held the worn fabric to his chest as breathless promises were whispered and rediscovered.

"It will protect you when I'm gone."

But the worn bandana stayed limp in his hands. A piece of fabric could not turn back the clock, nor return the dead.

Luke was alone.


	16. Day Ten (Morning)

Day Ten (Day)

A seed of worry grew when Molly arrived at the Fugue Forest's gate and saw that Luke was not there to greet her. Where is he today? she thought. Then the farmer remembered that she had arrived much later than usual. Thanks to yesterday's fierce storm, it had taken her a lot longer to finish the chores on the farm and to fix the damage that was caused (fortunately, most of the new crops had survived the weather, though the animals were understandably grumpy). Luke had probably gone into the forest by himself when Molly was late to appear. With that thought in mind, the farmer pushed aside the splintery gate and stepped into the woods.

Instead of a daunting gray, the clouds were fluffy and white as they wandered lazily across the sky. Aside from her footsteps, the forest was eerily quiet as the animals continued to debate whether it was safe to venture from their shelters. Last night's downpour had made the muddy ground malleable, and brought out the earthy scents of the forest. Branches that had broken off during the storm littered the ground, forcing Molly to watch her step. While many leftover raindrops still speckled the vegetation, a few heavier beads of water would swell and occasionally drip onto her skin, causing a pleasant sensation of coolness.

After spending so much time with Luke, Molly found it considerably easier to navigate her way through the forest, and she rarely needed to stop to reevaluate her path. A jittery eagerness hurried the girl's step at the thought of seeing Luke again—she couldn't wait to see his bright smile or to hear the goofy stories he would tell. It didn't take long to pick out a distinct thumping tempo near by. The resonating sound became steadily louder as she passed through dense bands of trees. Pulling aside a low branch, Molly smiled when she spotted a flash of blue hair and a brightly colored bandana.

As expected, Luke was facing a large pine tree with his axe in hand. The carpenter's back was turned towards the girl, so she couldn't see the expression on his face.

Each time the axe connected to the pine's bark, a handful of raindrops would tremble from the overhead needles before falling to sprinkle the carpenter in a light shower.

Molly didn't know what made her hesitate—maybe the rigid set of his shoulders, or the uncharacteristic seriousness as he swung his tool—but she didn't run up to Luke like she normally would. Instead, the farmer held back.

"Hey, honey-boy. Funny seeing you here," Molly called, letting a hint of teasing slip into her tone.

Though she knew that he must've heard her, Luke gave no sign of acknowledgment; it was as if she wasn't even there. A frown tugged Molly's lips, but she kept her tone light. "I see that you wanted a head-start today," she said, tilting her head towards the surprisingly large pile of lumber that rested to the side. "Looks like it paid off."

Still, the carpenter didn't look back.

Despite the danger, Molly determinedly marched right next to the tree Luke was chopping, forcing him to stop mid-swing. She felt a small amount of satisfaction when Luke made an irritated noise—the first reaction since she got there—before lowering his axe. He still refused to meet her eyes, however, so Molly said sharply, "Hey, look at me!"

The carpenter stood still before reluctantly turning around so they faced one another. Molly held back a gasp. Deep, pronounced circles covered the unusually ashen skin underneath Luke's eyes, and his clothes were darkened with moisture, clinging close to his body. The way he looked at her, though—so cold and distant—made Molly's blood turn to ice. "Luke, how long have you been out here?"

"Awhile." She was taken aback by the boy's dull, lifeless monotone.

Luke clenched his jaw before turning away again. "What do you want, Molly?"

"What do I want?" she echoed. Then her tone began to rise dangerously. "What I want is to find out what is going on with you!"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Luke, the boy who can never stop talking, now doesn't want to talk?" Molly stubbornly balled up her fists and placed them on her hips. The farmer knew that she was probably being too harsh, but at that point she couldn't care less. Now was not the time for subtleness. "Well, guess what, honey-boy; I'm not giving you a choice. Now what the hell happened between yesterday—where everything was going just perfectly—and today that's making you act like a zombie, huh?"

When she received no response, she asked anxiously, "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, of course not," said Luke, still not looking at her.

"Okay, then is there something wrong with Dale or Bo? Owen?"

"No."

Molly paused to think of other possibilities. "Does this have to do with the storm that happened yesterday, or tonight's competition?"

Luke's grip tightened on the axe, and Molly knew she had hit a nerve; a sense of chilling dread settled in the air. "Luke, please tell me what's wrong." She moved to touch him, to try and console, but he jerked back like a caged animal.

Hurt filled her eyes while Luke frantically shook his head. "No, Molly. I'm sorry, but I can't—I just can't."

"Can't what, Luke? Let me help you."

"You don't understand," he said frustratingly, taking a step back. That small step seemed to add a mile between them. "Please, Molly, I just…need to be alone right now. Please."

Her breath hitched. She couldn't move. The first genuine emotion that he showed that day appeared—a heart-wrenching sorrow that made her chest ache in sympathy. His desperate eyes silently asked—no, begged—her to stop, to turn away and leave.

Molly knew from experience that this could have ended a lot worse—most people would be yelling or even become aggressive, but the look on Luke's face felt even more terrible. A thousand sharp blades seemed to slowly rip through her chest, making it impossible to draw breath.

But Molly didn't reveal that. She kept her face carefully blank, devoid of all emotion, when she responded in a toneless voice, "I see."

She didn't see, though. Millions of questions formed to rest on the tip of her tongue: What had made her best friend (she didn't dare say boyfriend) so cold? What could've possibly changed him so much in just a day? What was really wrong?

None of those questions were voiced.

Even though he had quickly turned his gaze away, Molly stared at him unflinchingly for a long time before finally stepping back. Though every thought screamed at her to run, she kept her pace deliberately slow and steady, never looking back as she disappeared into the foliage of the forest. It didn't take long for the sounds of the axe to start again, forbidding her return; it sounded like a haunting lament. It wasn't until Molly was far, far away when she let the first brimming tears spill, tracing hot lines down her face.

Had she just lost her one, true friend?

Pieces of Lumber Left (Luke): 631

Pieces of Lumber Left (Molly): 0

Numbers of Hearts Broken: Two


	17. Day Ten: The End

Day Ten (Night)

Time was up.

At precisely six o'clock in the evening, the townsfolk of Castanet had gathered around at Flute Fields. A sunset was sinking below the horizon, giving way to the darker shades of the night. The bulky podium that had appeared a few days earlier was once again present on the hill. Mayor Hamilton, who was bustling around the podium, was still getting ready for the announcement that would soon take place.

From afar it seemed like any other summer day, but if you took a closer look at the scene, you would realize that there were subtle differences. The villagers were in a noticeably solemner mood than the last time they had formed a group. Not even Chloe or Taylor were running around like they normally would. As if sensing the significance of the situation, everyone kept their voices to little more than a whisper as they talked to one another.

"Still hoping for Carpenter Appreciation Day?" Owen teased Luke, trying to lighten the mood. It had taken Owen and Bo several hours to search through the forest to find Luke, and once they did, they had to practically drag him against his will to the evening's event.

"Hey, it's better than Miner Appreciation Day." Luke offered a weak smile before shifting his attention back to a certain girl. Unlike last time, Molly was standing by herself at the edge of the crowd. The lightheartedness that he had worked so hard to bring out in the girl was taken over by a serious frown. Following her every movement, Luke's gaze never left the farmer. Molly gave no signs that she was aware of being watched.

Bo and Owen, who were standing on either side of the carpenter, shared a worried look. Their friend's undivided attention towards the girl had not gone unnoticed.

"What's the thing between you two anyways?" Owen asked.

Without taking his gaze away from Molly, the carpenter said impatiently, "What are you talking about?"

"C'mon, you can't fool me, bro. I know that something went wrong between you two, and I want to know what it is."

Luke inwardly grimaced at the memory. "I, uh…said some stuff I shouldn't have."

"Ooh, that doesn't sound good. Do I need to add censor for the baby?" Owen clapped his beefy hands over Bo's ears. The boy made a sound of protest when he tried to move away, but the hands were unyielding as steel. "Give me the gory details."

The carpenter shook his head. "No, it's nothing like that. It's just…I wasn't myself."

"And you have a good reason for that," Owen said sympathetically. "No one will give you any crap about last night, you know. And if they do, I'll stick 'em in the mines and put some boulders over the exit."

The carpenter's smile wasn't back to its full enthusiasm, but it was close. "Thanks, bro. I owe you."

"Dude, that's common knowledge. Now what isn't common knowledge is how hot Kathy looks in—"

"I can still hear you!" Bo interrupted petulantly, still locked in the miner's grip. Apparently a pair of hands was not enough to completely block a person's hearing.

When Owen glanced down at his hands he seemed shocked to see that Bo was still there. "Oh…eh, right. A conversation for later then." Winking mischievously at Luke, he drew back his hands and the twelve year-old eagerly stepped away. A revolted look twisted Bo's features.

A metallic, echoing sound suddenly rang out from across the fields. Everyone except Luke, who was anxiously looking away, perked their heads up to see Hamilton and Gill standing on the stage. Gill stood silently beside his father with his nose conceitedly high in the air. It didn't take a genius to gather that he was still holding a grudge after the previous fruit-related incident. With a cheery smile that didn't reflect the audience's somber mood, the mayor cleared his throat once before spreading his arms wide as if to welcome the crowd. A microphone that was shortened at least a foot tilted towards the pudgy man's mouth.

"Good evening, everyone!" Mayor Hamilton began. Mumbles were heard from the crowd as the townsfolk returned the greeting. "Thank you all for attending today's ceremony!"

"As if we had a choice," muttered Chase in the background.

Either the mayor didn't hear this, or he chose to ignore it. "As you all know, this is the last day of the Thousand Lumber Bet. In case anyone happened to forget, the objective of this contest was for participants to cut down a thousand pieces of lumber in ten day's time. Whoever had accomplished this by the end, would receive 100,000G for a reward."

Luke struggled to swallow. Oh Goddess, it really is happening…

"These participants include our fellow villagers, Luke and Molly!"

When the crowd parted for him, Luke could feel every single stare burning into his back as he walked towards Mayor Hamilton and Gill; they seemed irrationally menacing as they looked down at him from the stage. He climbed the five steps from the right side of the podium, and Molly did the same from the opposite side. Neither the carpenter nor the farmer glanced at each other as they silently took their places besides the mayor. Gill made an irritated noise from having his imaginary spotlight taken.

Mayor Hamilton stepped away from the microphone to shake each of the contestant's hands enthusiastically, muttering a 'good to see you!' as he did so. Luke was grateful that his gloves covered his sweaty palms. Once the mayor had shaken both of the contestants' hands, he returned back to the mike, tapped it once, and said, "Now, it is time for the contestants to state the pieces of lumber they had gathered. Luke, you may go first."

Wonderful.

The mayor ushered the carpenter to step forward in front of the mike. Luke had to awkwardly raise the microphone higher so it actually reached his mouth instead of his chest. Once the mike was properly adjusted, Luke nervously looked at the crowd; there was a silence while everyone waited him to speak. It was then that Luke's throat conveniently decided to dry up to a scratchy mess. He had to struggle to choke out the words, "Five hundred."

Loud, astonished gasps were collected from the audience. A noisy chatter immediately followed when the townsfolk tried to figure out how an expert carpenter had barely even reached half of his goal. Only the residents of the Garmon Mine District were silent, each with a sorrowful look on their faces. Dale was at the very back of the crowd with his arms crossed against his chest; the man's piercing glare was unwavering as he looked towards his son. Luke could feel shame and embarrassment under the weight of everyone's—especially Pops—stares.

"Alright, alright!" Mayor Hamilton said, raising his hands in an attempt to silence the audience. Once the crowd was quiet again, he turned to Molly; her face showed no hint of emotion. "Dear, please tell us what you have gathered."

A terrible feeling of dread was added to the chaotic mix of Luke's emotions as he waited for Molly to speak. However, the girl didn't say anything for a long moment and Mayor Hamilton awkwardly prompted, "Uh…dear? Your results?"

"Mister Hamilton?" Molly abruptly spoke in the politest tone anyone could manage. "I have a few questions."

The mayor furrowed his eyebrows but answered, "Yes, my dear?"

"A thousand pieces of lumber is needed to build the new villager's mansion, right?"

For the first time since he had stepped up on the stage, Luke looked at the girl curiously. What was she planning?

Gill sneered condescendingly. "Why else is the competition called the 'Thousand Lumber Bet'?"

The farmer smoothly ignored this and looked to Hamilton for the answer.

"Y-y-yes, that's right."

"And as long as that amount is collected, then the goal for the competition is fulfilled, right?"

"Um…" Mayor Hamilton glanced around nervously as if looking for someone to guide him—this was not going as planned. "Correct..?

Molly continued without missing a beat. "Then I, too, have gathered five hundred pieces of lumber."

There was a moment of pause as the audience tried to work out what was happening. Of course, Phoebe was the first to answer. "Luke has collected five hundred pieces of lumber, and so has Molly. That means—"

"The total equals a thousand!" Kathy spoke up from the crowd, a large grin showing. "That means they both win!"

"Exactly," said Phoebe in a satisfied tone, pressing a finger against the bridge of her glasses.

Luke's heart started to speed up while he mentally tried to figure out where this was leading. Molly couldn't possibly have chopped that trivial amount of lumber; he watched her collect stacks a day! He looked towards the farmer and found that she was smiling at him, a secret hidden in her eyes.

Sending a detested glare at apparently everyone, Gill hissed, "That is a violation! Only one person is to be the winner! Molly and Luke both need to be disqualified for not completing their goal!"

"Lighten up, you pompous, over-dressed doll!" Owen yelled, raising a fist to the air. Unexpectedly, the rest of the villagers grunted their approval and started to shout protests towards the stand. Even Chase seemed to take joy at insulting the said pompous, over-dressed doll.

Gill looked aghast but that expression soon gave way to a menacing sneer. "You are all nothing but hillbilly, incompetent—"

The platinum blonde's tirade faltered when a flash of red came out of nowhere and hit the pompous on the forehead. At the same time that Gill lost his balance and fell backwards on his butt, a shiny apple (it had one brown bruise from where it presumably hit the mayor-to-be) tumbled to the stage and rolled off the edge. Luke smiled when he saw Chloe darting off into the hills, dragging a certain twelve year-old with her.

While Gill nursed a prominent bump on his forehead, Mayor Hamilton tried to take control of the situation once more. It wasn't going too well.

Before he could even open his mouth, Kathy spoke up once again. "So let's get this straight," the blonde said, addressing both the people on the podium and the crowd gathered around her. "The goal was to gather a thousand pieces of lumber for some newcomer. Molly and Luke gathered five hundred pieces each, and together they fulfill the necessary requirements. Now, the reward is 100,000G. Since Molly and Luke each acquired half of the total amount of lumber needed, shouldn't each of the contestants receive half of the reward?"

An uproar of agreement erupted from the crowd.

"Straight down the middle, Molly and Luke should receive 50,000G each," Kathy concluded. "Does that sound fair, Mayor Hamilton?"

The mayor looked at the dozens of villagers' adamant expressions and knew that the contestants had full support—just like Kathy had predicted. Hamilton gave a smile that reached from ear to ear. Spreading his arms wide (which also pronounced his pudgy belly), he exclaimed, "Well, who am I to doubt the people of Castanet? 50,000G each, it is!"

Luke couldn't believe his ears—50,000G…it certainly wasn't what he had in mind, but it would be enough to save not only the carpentry, but Molly's farm, too.

Molly…

The residents of Castanet were sending uproar after uproar of applause, but all of that faded into the distance. Luke had eyes for only one person.

"Hey," he said when he reached her.

The farmer smiled timidly, not knowing what to expect. "Hi."

"That was pretty clever."

"What can I say? I'm a genius." She smirked.

"Ha, never doubted you for a second."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Liar."

"Okay, not any second that counts," amended Luke with a shrug of his shoulders. "Molly, I'm sorry that I got mad at you before. It was totally out of line, and I promise it won't happen again."

The girl nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's okay, I can understand. Just remember that when I freak out you have to be all understanding and treat me like a queen, okay?"

Luke grinned. "Oh, trust me, I'll remember that—if I don't, then you'll probably come after me with an axe or something."

"Well, maybe not an axe since that has become quite a holy symbol around here, but a machine gun is still debatable."

The two shared a laugh before Luke said, "By the way, I'm not fooled. How much lumber did you really collect?"

"Oh, a thousand," she said smugly with a playful smile. "I was thinking that maybe I could donate it to the town—there's that school that could use some fixing up."

"Sounds like good idea." Luke slowly wrapped an arm around the girl's waist to pull her closer. Their faces were only a few inches apart, and her eyes searched his. The pair leaned in closer until the tips of their noses nuzzled together.

Molly's fingers danced up and down the carpenter's lean arms. "It's stupefying what can happen in ten days, isn't it?"

"I have no idea what stupefying means," murmured Luke, leaning forward until the space between their lips was gone.

Neither of them noticed that they were still on stage in very clear view of the villagers, who had gone completely silent as they looked on at the lovebirds.

"Told you they would kiss," Kathy said to Owen, who had an arm nestled around the waitress's shoulders.

"How romantic!" Chloe squealed, shaking Bo's arm with enthusiasm.

"This feels weird…" the twelve year-old muttered, cheeks turning red. At least on the bright side, Luke may be too distracted with his new girlfriend to concoct a devilish wake-up plan every morning.

Dale tried to fight a grin that continued to force its way onto his otherwise stoic face. "That's my boy," he said proudly. Bright, glimmering unshed tears sparkled in his eyes. "Carol would be so proud…just like I am."

When the kiss ended, Luke's fingers gently traced over Molly's temple then rested on the tip of her chin. "I have one question," he whispered.

With a blissfully dazed look on her face, Molly hummed breathlessly, "Hmm?"

"Will you ever tell me how you fit everything in that freaking bag of yours?"

Molly threw her head back and laughed. Once a doofus, always a doofus.

THE END

Pieces of Lumber Left (Luke): 0

Pieces of Lumber Left (Molly): 0

The number of times Luke failed to wake up Bo after the Thousand Lumber Bet: 0

The number of days the Wizard is kept in captive: If I were to tell, the Witch Princess would put a hex on me.

The number of times Luke thanked the Goddess for everything (even the storm) that had brought him to his true love: Every single day.

The next 'chapter' is just some fun extras-you do not need to read it in order to understand the rest of the story.

Thank you again for those who have read/follow/favorite! It's been a pleasure writing for you!


	18. Extra! Extra!

Guide/Answers to the Puzzle behind the numbers of "Pieces of Lumber"

Hi everyone! As I'm sure you guys already know, I had created a little mini-game with the numbers of "Pieces of Lumber" at the end of every chapter. The challenge I had set was for you, the readers, to find the pattern hidden within each set of numbers. Once again, this in no way affects the actual story, but I just thought it would be a fun game in case anyone wanted to play. Before I give you the answer, I have listed again the set of days and numbers, just in case it's easier to solve that way.

Repeat

Day 1: 910

Day 2: 802

Day 3: 712

Day 4: 604

Day 5: 520

Day 6: 415

Day 7: 307

Day 8: 205

Day 9: 100

Day 10 (Luke): 631

And now here is the answer/guide to the puzzle!

Day 1: 910: equals: 9 plus 1

Day 2: 802: equals: 8 plus 2

Day 3: 712: equals: 7 plus 1 plus 2

Day 4: 604: equals: 6 plus 4

Day 5: 520: equals: 5 multiplied by 2

Day 6: 415: equals: 4 plus 1 plus 5

Day 7: 307: equals: 3 plus 7

Day 8: 205: equals: 2 times 5

Day 9: 100: equals: 10 times 10

Day 10 (Luke): 631: equals: 6 plus 3 plus 1

Answer to all of these: 10

Congratulations for those who have solved the puzzle! For those who didn't, you shouldn't feel bad in the slightest. It's just enough that you have tried, or even decided to read this! Thank you everyone for reading my story to this point, and for trying out my mini-game! It means so incredibly much! This will probably sound cheesy, but you guys are THE BESTEST!

Oh, and in case you guys were wondering who was going to move in to Harmonica town: It was a character named Dia from other Harvest Moon games. If I'm not mistaken, she was a marriage bachelorette that was rich (assuming that she lived in a mansion in at least one game) and also rather sickly. The plan was to find someone that would want to build something that would require a lot of lumber, thus the mansion. After that I needed a reason/background of why the character was moving to Harmonica Town in the first place. That's when Dia had fit the bill.

*DELETED SCENE*

(This was originally posted on Chapter 8, or Day Five (Day))

*As I mentioned before, this scene is not required to understand the rest of the story.*

A week ago there was a particularly slow day at the carpentry, so Luke decided to take the day off. He had gone to the mines in order to visit Owen. Even though he much preferred the wide, open forest to the cramped mines, Luke thought he should at least return the favor to visit Owen while he worked. The carpenter watched as his friend's top-heavy hammer repeatedly hit the rocks and crystals that covered the area; each time a ringing sound would echo against the cavern's walls whenever the hammer swung. The noise would be followed by the crumbling of its target.

Owen knew that Luke wasn't overly fond of being underground, so they stayed only on the levels close to the surface. The air wasn't very musty compared to the deeper levels. A string of wavering lights hung from the ceiling, keeping things bright enough so their eyes wouldn't strain. The hammer's repeated disturbance in the mines sent clouds of dust in the air, making Luke's nose itchy, but that didn't stop the carpenter from talking nonstop. Only occasionally would Owen actually bring any contribution to the conversation (besides snide comments).

"So then this HUGE lion jumped out of nowhere and it growled, 'I will eat you now!' That's when I took out my wicked axe and—hey, Owen? What's that?"

Owen wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead after Luke abruptly changed topics. Luke was sitting on a large rock and his arm was outstretched as he pointed to something that reflected dimly in the shadowy mines. Owen turned his gaze to what had caught his friend's attention.

"That's nothing, Luke" The miner sounded disinterested as he lifted his hammer once more. "It's just some leftover shards of crystals. It's not even big enough to contain anything special."

Luke lightly jumped off the rock and picked up the tiny, white crystal between his index finger and thumb. "They're still nice to look at though," the carpenter said, narrowing his eyes as he inspected the shard. Turning the crystal at different angles revealed faint, cloudy wisps locked inside.

"I wouldn't hold it too tightly, if I were you. Inside some of the crystals are gasses that can really mess you up." Owen brought down his hammer and the targeted rock shattered into pieces. He sighed when the rock didn't contain anything remarkable except crushed pebbles. The miner walked over to another rock nearby.

"Like what?" The carpenter eyed the crystal warily.

Owen shrugged. "Some can screw with your eyes so you can't see far ahead, while others just make you weak or tired. There is even one type of gas that makes you so confused that you do everything in reverse. They don't last long—and they're not really that harmful—but it's still not good to be stuck in the fumes."

"You know, that kind of explains a lot."

"About?"

"About why your brain is the way it is. The gases mess with your head, man!" Luke said in a deliberately silly voice while Owen snorted.

"Nah, I think the forest's pollution affects you more than the mines affect me."

"It's a forest, Owen. Forests don't have any pollution if they're clean. It's all nat-ur-al!" He purposely drew out the syllables in the last word.

"Usually that would be true, but you're forgetting about the Witch Princess. Who knows what that crazy person is putting in the air over there?"

Luke considered this and then shook his head persistently. "That's true, but I still think that gasses are more potent than anything the Witch Princess has, hands down."

"Depends on what type of thing we're talking about—are we talking about the witch's pollution, or the pollution that your presence gives off? 'Cause your stuff would rot anybody's brains."

"You should be more worried about the gasses that come out of your butt, instead of the ones from the mines." The carpenter stuck out his tongue indignantly, and then returned to a more serious note. "So there have to be some helpful gasses, too, right? If all of them were so dangerous then you wouldn't be down here."

Owen swung his hammer, which sent up another plume of dust. This time his endeavor was successful and he pocketed a round, blue sphere into his miner's bag. "Sure. There's a gas that prevents you from becoming fatigue as quickly, while another helps you regenerate some strength. Still, you should be careful with what you smash—it's almost impossible to tell the difference between the good ones and the bad ones."

Luke raised an eyebrow. "You can't just tell by looking at the crystals?"

"Hey, I specialize in ores—not gasses," the miner replied irritably.

The carpenter snorted. "Ramsey and Chloe would beg to differ. They have to put up with your gas both night and day."

Owen glowered but let the comment pass. "As I was saying, the only person who's really an expert on that sort of stuff is Mira."

A distant memory of an older woman with sad eyes and a worn, purple shawl came into view. "You mean the really depressed looking woman who I think Julius is taking advantage of?"

The miner nodded. "That's her. She can appraise just about anything for you—and at a decent price too."

Luke carefully tucked the shard into his pocket. "Thanks for the information. I know the shard isn't worth much, but I'm still curious to see what stuff could be inside."

"You're always curious," Owen pointed out.

The blue-haired boy impishly winked. "That's my secret to success."

The next day, Luke was at Mira's doorstep bright and early.


End file.
